


Draco is a Ministry Hit-Wizard

by ladyroxanne21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8278178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: During a pivotal point in Draco's life, something goes very wrong and the Ministry forces him to become a Hit-Wizard. Five years later, he's depressed and decides to do whatever it takes to be happy, even if it means playing a dirty trick on Harry Potter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So when the idea for this story first came to me, I meant it to be very dark and likely to churn most stomachs. I intended it to be a bit of Harry and Draco against the world, but then I sat down to write it. From the first moment I let Draco loose, he changed the story from dark to rather fluffy, lol! So, I ended up with an MPreg :-)
> 
> Just so you know, I modeled Harry's pregnancy after my own. Everything that happens to him during his pregnancy except for the labor and delivery portion actually happened to me when I was pregnant with my first son - Who had his 12th birthday today (Oct. 13th). I'd dedicate this story to him, but he rolled his eyes and reminded me that he's still too young for mushy stuff, lol!

 

Draco held up the vial of potion and stared through it as he contemplated his life over the past five years. Back then, he could have _never_ guessed that he'd be doing what he does now. If he went back in time and told his younger self, that poor boy would get sick from the horror.

The pivotal day was... Well...

The day that Dumbledore died. The two of them had been talking all alone on the Astronomy Tower, and Dumbledore had offered him an out. Protection. A way for his family to escape the madman that wanted to take over the world.

He had wanted to take that offer so badly that his hands shook from it. Then a few of his cronies arrived and urged him to get on with killing the old man – who was obviously very weak and possibly on the verge of dying anyway. Draco really did _not_ want to! He wanted to take the offer of protection and go into hiding.

Sadly...

Snape arrived and Draco could see in his eyes that he was about to kill Dumbledore. So Draco did the only thing he could think of doing. He silently mouthed a desperate Protego, knowing that nothing would stop an Avada Kedavra, but feeling like he had to try anyway.

However, his plans went horribly awry when the Protego manifested around the wizened Headmaster so forcefully that he fell over the side of the tower and... Died. By Draco's hand. A hand meant to protect.

Snape's unforgivable curse hit a wall and all of their cronies gaped in impressed astonishment over the wall, watching as Dumbledore fell to his death. Which was probably a good thing for Draco at that moment because he was gaping in horror, tears streaming from his eyes. Snape nearly gaped at Draco in shock for a full moment before his sense came back and he grabbed Draco and forced him to run.

He also protected Draco from everyone who was after them. Which mostly turned out to be Harry Potter, who was snarling at Snape and trying to kill or unforgivably curse one or both of them. The moment they were outside the wards, Draco Disapparated, knowing that he was now a murderer, no matter how much he didn't want to be.

Much later, after the war was over – the Dark Lord having been defeated in a Final Battle at Hogwarts – Draco expected to be convicted of so many crimes. Crimes that he had been forced to commit at the Dark Lord's insistence. Namely, the murder of Dumbledore.

But to his surprise, Boy Wonder stood up and explained that Draco had never actually _wanted_ to do any of that. That he had been forced into it, and that he was just a boy who needed to be given a second chance. His speech actually half answered a question Draco'd been pondering since the night of the Final Battle.

Why exactly did Harry bloody Potter save him from that Fiendfyre? He clearly hadn't deserved it. But for some reason, _he_ thought Draco did. Thus, Draco now owed him a life debt.

What Harry did not know – not having been privy to the closed meeting that happened after his testimony but before the sentencing – was that Draco was offered a deal. He would be cleared of all charges and allowed to live as normal a life as he could if he just...

It sounded so simple at the time. All he needed to do was...

Murder.

Be the invisible hands of the ministry.

Be the one they sent out to kill former Death Eaters who had escaped punishment.

Be the one they sent out to kill any criminal who committed terrible or violent crimes but could not be convicted for whatever reason.

Be the one with blood on his hands so that no one else had to.

Draco reluctantly agreed. At the time, he didn't realize that there would be _so much_ blood on his hands. Had he, he may well have just asked to be sentenced to the Dementors' Kiss.

So here he was, five years after the war – only 23 – and already such a seasoned Hit-Wizard that he highly doubted anyone could convict him of actual murder if they caught him leaving the scene of the crime. He well knew how to make it look like he had nothing to do with it. He also had Ministry protection in that they gave him cover stories as needed and sent in professionals to clean up the crime scenes so that even if he did inadvertently leave evidence, it wouldn't remain long enough to be found by the Aurors.

And he felt empty inside.

So very empty.

Hallow.

Numb.

He sometimes wished he could just end it all.

But he couldn't because on the outside, he was the son and Heir of a powerful and wealthy family. He had friends. He had lovers. He may or may not get married in the near future and have Heirs of his own. His parents would never forgive him if he killed himself before providing the next link in the family chain that must continue no matter what the cost.

So here he was, standing in his bedroom holding a vial of a potion that might just give him and his parents what they all wanted in one swift and neat strike. It wasn't a guarantee, but it _was_ a chance. A chance he planned to take no matter what happened.

Draco swallowed the contents of the vial, and then slipped another vial of the same potion into his pocket. After a moment of thought, he slipped a tiny little vial of a different potion into his pocket as well. If all went well, these two little glass containers of liquid would give him most of the things he had decided would make him happy. Maybe not forever, but at least for an hour or so with a chance at forever.

Surely that would be enough to tide him over for a while.

 

***

 

Harry watched the waiter refill his wine glass before nodding respectfully and walking away. Harry quickly cast a spell to detect poisons, and finding none, gulped his wine. He often dined in fine restaurants simply because as much as he loved to cook, he also loved to eat good food that he _didn't_ cook. The best food, prepared by skilled chefs who knew how to make everything taste fabulous.

Movement caught his attention.

“Well well, Potter, who would have ever thought I'd run into you _here_?” Malfoy drawled as he rested a hand on the back of the chair across the table from Harry. “At a high class restaurant with a prestigious three Michelin Stars.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don't care how many stars the place has, it's the food that brings me here.” There was no need to admit that this restaurant happened to be his favorite – expensive or not.

Malfoy chuckled, a soft and surprisingly open sound. “It's the _food_ that earned those esteemed stars.”

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry practically snapped.

Malfoy shrugged. “I'm finished eating and was on my way to the loo when I spotted you. I couldn't believe my eyes at first since I did not believe you to have such refined tastes. I think I was mostly curious.”

Harry sighed in defeat. “I'm nearly done eating too. Care to join me for a glass of wine before we go our separate ways for another five years?”

“Sounds tolerable to me,” Malfoy murmured, pulling the chair out to sit in even as he signaled for the waiter to bring a glass of wine for him.

Harry frowned for one moment as he realized that there was something slightly different about his waiter. Or rather, his waiter was the same one that had been serving him all night, except for a while ago, he'd looked... off. Younger maybe? Older? Harry couldn't put his finger on it, but it was bugging him. He finished his wine so that the waiter could fill his glass again.

The next thing Harry did, once the waiter had left, was cast the detection spell again. Not just on his glass, but on Malfoy's too. Both were clean of poison.

Malfoy raised a brow in curiosity. “Something the matter, Potter?”

Harry shrugged. “Just that people are always trying to slip things in my drinks. When I have a real reason to suspect tampering, I'll cast detection spells for everything I can think of, but when I'm out in muggle places and have to be discrete, I simply look for poison.”

“Who would want to poison the precious Savior?” Malfoy asked in a tone of clear surprise.

“I never know who is doing it, just that it happens a couple times a month on average,” Harry stated in a tone of weary acceptance.

Malfoy leaned forward as if about to impart a profound secret. “Do you think that someone is sending Hit-Wizards after you?” He whispered.

Harry leaned forward too, playing along even though it made him feel a bit silly. “I have no idea, but I'm sure that there are just enough former Death Eaters out there that it's probably a strong possibility.”

Malfoy stroked his chin in thought as he looked at the chandelier covered ceiling. “My various contacts haven't reported any... or wait...” He frowned and looked into his wine glass. “Maybe they have...” He abruptly looked up at Harry. “I owe you a life debt, so I will ask those people I know who do not officially exist and see if any information can be uncovered.”

Harry snorted in amusement. “And then what, Malfoy? It's not like knowing for sure that people want to kill me will change anything. I've known that pretty much since the day I turned eleven.”

“True...” Malfoy admitted after a moment of silence. “Fine. I won't bother then.”

Harry frowned at his wine glass for a long and silent moment before muttering to himself. “I must be drunker than I thought.”

“Why is that?” Malfoy asked curiously.

“Because... alright fine! This is not something I would normally ever do, but I think this wine has gone to my head. Malfoy, do you want to go to the loo with me for a bit and work out some of our mutual aggressions?”

“That sounds like it could be... satisfying,” Malfoy admitted in a careful tone of voice. “But are you certain you want to do that in the loo? We could always go back to mine, or rent a room somewhere if you're adverse to my place.”

Harry thought this over for a moment. “Your place... Malfoy Manor?”

Malfoy nodded in confirmation.

Harry sighed, a strange and heavy sigh full of so many things that couldn't be understood. “Alright, so long as we don't have to worry about house elves or your parents walking in on us.”

Malfoy grinned impishly. “I assure you that I am never interrupted when I've set up my privacy wards.”

“Then your place it is,” Harry agreed. He left enough money on the table to more than cover his bill, and then calmly walked with Malfoy out of the restaurant and into a nearby alley with the privacy for them to Apparate. Malfoy took Harry's arm and brought them right to his bedroom, and then cast those privacy wards.

“This might well be the most interesting night I've had in a long time,” Malfoy admitted, once more in a careful tone of voice.

“Same here,” Harry murmured, trying to remember why he had agreed to this, and more importantly, when he had disregarded his natural preference for women. His head was rapidly feeling fuzzy – but in a good way, if that was possible.

Malfoy decided to end all possibility of hesitation. He cast a spell that banished their clothes to the floor in one instant. The next thing Harry knew, he was flat on his back on the bed and Malfoy was using some fantastic oral skills to put Harry in the right mood.

Harry raised up on his elbows and looked down to watch that positively sinful mouth worship his shaft. It felt incredible. Better than any other such experience that he could remember. In fact, he was currently having trouble remembering anything aside from his name.

As Malfoy's mouth figuratively sucked Harry's soul out via a painfully erect shaft, Malfoy's long fingers pushed into Harry someplace where nothing had ever breached. Harry gasped and tried to pay attention, but that mouth made it damn near impossible to focus on anything else. It wasn't until Malfoy had him writhing in a type of pleasure that he'd never felt before that Harry had a moment to realize what was going to happen when those fingers stopped rubbing the spot that sent a molten heat throughout his body.

Sure enough, at that crucial moment when Harry was going to lose all control of his stamina, Malfoy removed his mouth and his fingers from Harry's body. A couple of minutes passed as Harry panted, more than half of him protesting the abrupt halt to what was going to be an earth shattering climax. Then Malfoy stopped lightly kissing Harry's chest and shifted into position.

“Wait...” Harry whispered, his head trying to come to terms with what was happening.

“Yes?” Malfoy asked, his hard shaft slick and pressing just slightly into Harry's well prepared hole.

“I... Why am I doing this?” Harry wondered with a puzzled frown.

“Because it feels good?” Malfoy suggested with a shrug.

“Well, yes, but...” Harry scrunched his face up in confusion.

“Do you want me to stop?” Malfoy asked.

“I don't know,” Harry admitted in a whisper.

“Why not let me continue? If it doesn't feel right after a few moments, tell me to stop.”

“Okay,” Harry said because he didn't know how else to respond. He really wasn't sure what was going on. Well, obviously sex, but not why or how he had ended up in this situation.

To his surprise and delight, Malfoy knew how to make Harry feel good. _Really_ good! Harry clung to Malfoy and bit his neck in an attempt to anchor himself. He really thought he might explode and go drifting off into space otherwise.

It didn't take too long – maybe ten glorious minutes – before Harry felt his orgasm erupt from him in hot waves. He cried out, shaking and holding onto Malfoy so tightly that he wouldn't at all be surprised to find out he'd choked the poor sod to death. In return, Malfoy gasped – his breath catching in his throat – and pumped Harry full.

Then they collapsed into a pile and panted heavily for several long and otherwise silent moments.

“I had no idea it would feel like that,” Harry confessed in a whisper some time later. “But possibly the strangest thing of all is that I'm ready to go again.” Harry stared at his irreverently hard shaft in mild horror. He usually went limp and passed out right after a good orgasm.

Malfoy smirked knowingly. “I really wouldn't mind you shagging me next.”

“You'll have to tell me what to do because I've never been with a man before,” Harry informed him, just slightly shy and hesitant to admit that.

“Really?” Malfoy questioned with a raised brow. “Not sure why, but I assumed that you probably had a different lover every night – both male and female – considering... Well...”

Harry chuckled. “Yes, I probably could have sex with every witch and wizard in the world if I wanted, but so far, I've only had one long-term girlfriend and a couple of one offs with muggle women.”

“Not to worry,” Malfoy assured him. “Not too different than you're used to – aside from preparation. In that, I'll make it easy for you.” He proved that he was telling the truth by casting a few spells on himself. “There, I'm prepared, lubricated, and ready for you.”

“Hmm,” Harry murmured, impressed. “That seems handy.” He rolled onto Malfoy and pressed into him ever so slightly. Then a strange expression crossed his face. “I still don't know why I'm doing this.”

Malfoy simply smirked and shrugged. “If you ever figure it out, you be sure to tell me.”

Feeling strangely _not_ reassured, but also not willing to stop at this point, Harry simply shoved his misgivings to the back of his mind and finished pushing into Malfoy. The pleasure hit him like a punch to the stomach, making him gasp. He had to stop and savor the feeling for a moment before he could move without gasping again.

Malfoy simply smirked as if he knew exactly what Harry was feeling. Harry wanted to call him a smug bastard, but he honestly had every right to be smug at the moment. Thus, it would be an empty insult – or worse! A compliment.

Harry instinctively sought out that one spot that made Malfoy gasp and cry out. Then he made it his mission to hit it as much as possible. After a while, Malfoy was practically vibrating with how much his body shook. It made Harry feel a bit smug himself. He reached a hand between them and stroked Malfoy's shaft until it erupted thick white stripes between them. The orgasm made Malfoy feel really tight and downright magical on Harry's shaft. With a happy purring sigh, Harry pumped Malfoy full.

Possibly the weirdest part of the entire night was when Harry realized that he was snuggling with Malfoy. They were tangled up in the aftermath of astonishingly good sex, so it was perhaps only to be expected, but he hadn't thought that Malfoy would be the type to want to cuddle post coitus. And yet, they were. They were even holding hands!

And Harry couldn't fall asleep if his life depended on it.

So he decided to talk.

“So, Malfoy, what have you been doing since I last saw you?”

“Oh... this and that,” Malfoy murmured with a shrug. “Learning how to oversee the many Malfoy businesses, shopping with my mother and Pansy, dining at fine restaurants, attending all the snootiest galas, and working for the Ministry when called upon as a Hit-Wizard.”

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh sure! And I'm a three headed dog named Fluffy!”

Malfoy shifted to look at Harry curiously. “You don't believe me?”

Harry shook his head. “As I said at your trial, I was there the day Dumbledore died. You're no murderer.”

“You killed Voldemort and I killed Dumbledore,” Malfoy stated – once more with a strangely careful tone. “I think that makes us both killers.”

“Perhaps, but not murderers,” Harry stated confidently. “I killed a man in order to save the world – or so they keep assuring me. You tried to protect a man who offered to protect you, only it accidentally killed him. I was maybe ten feet from you, so I saw the look on your face. You didn't mean to kill him. You silently cast a Protego. And had you not, he would have been Avada Kedavra'd about one second later – at the hands of Snape by Dumbledore's own request, so, really, Dumbledore more or less killed himself.”

“Wha...?” Malfoy breathed out softly in shock, his body trembling ever so slightly. He then sat up abruptly. “You mean to say... All this time... they had no _leverage_ over me!” He pushed Harry away and got out of bed so fast that he nearly fell. “Stay there and don't move!” He snarled at Harry as he grabbed Floo powder out of a bowl and tossed it into his fireplace – which was angled so that it didn't face the bed.

A moment later, a face appeared in the green fire. Malfoy greeted the face by throwing a gorgeous crystal vase at it – which shattered melodiously. “You complete bastard!”

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Mr. Malfoy?” The unknown face asked.

“Five years you've sent me out at your beck and call, all the while telling me that one day, I'd repay my debt to society, only for me to discover that I never had a debt to begin with!” Malfoy roared in outrage.

“Of course you had a debt to repay,” the face replied smoothly. “And the moment there are no more former Death Eaters left to disturb the peace, you'll be free. Speaking of, we've uncovered evidence that an insane old hag living on her own in the middle of London is responsible for kidnapping children and eating them. I was going to send you the file first thing tomorrow.”

“I don't want to do this anymore!” Malfoy shouted angrily. “Do you deny that Dumbledore arranged to have himself killed?!”

“Oh, so you finally figured that out, did you?” The face asked with a smug smirk. “Doesn't matter, you have to do this.”

Malfoy tossed another priceless vase at the fire, the sound of it exploding was like music to his ears. “The fuck I do!”

“Do you honestly think you'll be allowed to say no? If you don't do as we say, we will simply convict you of all the crimes you've committed over the last five years.”

“Crimes _you_ ordered me to commit!” Malfoy protested vehemently.

“Crimes are crimes, and these will get you Kissed even though that punishment has been banned. I want that hag taken care of first thing tomorrow.”

Malfoy took a deep breath, and then growled. “And exactly _when_ will my debt be repaid?”

“When there are no more former Death Eaters walking free,” the face stated matter of factly.

“ _I'm_ a former Death Eater!” Malfoy reminded him.

“Exactly.” After that, the fire disappeared and Malfoy roared in frustration, actually pulling on his hair.

“Wait...” Harry murmured, trying to process what he had heard. “You mean...”

Malfoy abruptly remembered that he wasn't alone, whirled to face Harry, and then swore. “Fuck!” He paced a little. “Now I'm going to have to Obliviate you. And I didn't want to have to do that.”

“Don't even think about it, Malfoy,” Harry growled threateningly. “I'm immune, for one, and for two, your magical signature would be detected on me and you'd be sent to Azkaban.”

Malfoy huffed in annoyance. “Well, maybe that's where I belong at this point.”

“I'm an Auror, I know about the woman that man was talking about,” Harry changed the subject. “She's a clever witch. So clever that she's managed to evade the law for many years even though all signs point to the fact that she really is eating muggle kids.”

Malfoy shrugged. “That doesn't really matter to me. I will receive her file in the morning, and then she'll no longer be able to hurt innocent little children.”

“But... You don't want to do it?” Harry asked in confusion.

Malfoy shrugged again. Then he exhaled a heavy sigh. “They only send me after human monsters, so, if I'm honest, I don't mind so much. I'm simply _furious_ that I let them trap me in this mess in the first place!”

“Can I ask...” Harry hesitated. “First of all, I vow that I won't tell anyone what I know, so you don't have to worry about me spilling your secret. Second of all, I'm serious in that I can't be Obliviated – it was something that was discovered in Auror training. We had to practice minor Obliviation on each other, and it took at least have a dozen trainees and a master Obliviator to realize that I just couldn't be... I'm immune. So, knowing that, can I ask you about a man from about two years ago who abducted women, held them hostage for weeks as he tortured, raped, and abused them, and then tossed them into trash heaps all around the country...”

“And you think I know about this man why?” Malfoy asked with a calculating expression.

“Because he disappeared abruptly one day, and then turned up on a trash heap about a month later,” Harry stated nonchalantly.

Malfoy sighed as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You have to understand that I didn't... I don't... I was ordered to put him in a cell and let him starve to death – so that he could experience _some_ of what he had put all those women through. He beat up and cut and tortured himself; I didn't do that.”

Harry didn't know what to do with that information, so he cleared his throat. “I should... I should probably go.” Now that he was thinking clearly again, he was starting to feel uncomfortable sitting naked in front of the man he had just had incredible yet confusing sex with. “I need... I need to think.”

Malfoy snorted in amusement. “I'll bet! I'm sure you want to go home and forget any of this happened. I'm certain you'll tell yourself that you never want to see me again, but I fully expect you'll be back in two or three months.”

Harry gave him a look that clearly stated that he doubted it. After that, he gathered up his clothes and Disapparated. As predicted, he eventually decided to try to forget the entire night had happened.

 

***

 

“Good news sir!” A new Auror that Harry couldn't remember the name of announced as he entered Harry's office and tossed a file on the desk. “We just got word that the old witch that we are pretty sure has a nasty habit of eating kids, well,” he shrugged and grinned. “She's been found dead in her flat. And get this! Preliminary reports indicate that she simply fell and broke her hip, but then she couldn't get up again, so _her cats_ ate her!”

Harry shuddered in revulsion. Then he squinted at the file speculatively. “Was there anything to indicate that someone might have _helped_ her fall?”

“Why even ask that?” The newbie asked in confusion. “Who cares? She deserved her fate no matter how it happened.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I'm sure she did, but still, I find it a bit convenient.”

Newbie shrugged. “As I understand it, there was no indication of foul play and no other magical signatures in her flat. That said, investigators _did_ find a hidden room full of trophies from her... meals...” At this, he bowed his head and muttered a prayer for the victims. “Since the victims were all muggle kids, once we remove all magical traces from the flat, we plan to hand the case over to the muggle authorities – that way, they can bring closure to the families of the victims.”

Harry sighed. “I understand. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“No problem sir,” the Auror stated with a tiny smile. “I know we all wanted that case to be solved.”

Harry grabbed the file. “I'll bring this to Dawlish.”

The new Auror simply nodded and left Harry's office. It was Harry's job as Deputy Head to keep the Head Auror informed of all developments. Harry had to admit that it filled him with a certain satisfaction that this particular case was closed.

After discussing the case for about a half an hour, both Harry and Dawlish felt silent to think their own thoughts.

“Sir, does the Ministry employ Hit-Wizards?” Harry asked, squirming uncomfortably.

“That's a subject that I cannot confirm,” Dawlish stated flatly.

“Huh...” Harry murmured in thought because it wasn't being denied either, which almost made it a confirmation.

“All I know on the subject is that – hypothetically – if the Ministry employed Hit-Wizards, they would be governed by the Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries. Why?” Dawlish asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. “It just occurred to me that cases like this could be closed a lot sooner if the Ministry had people who could break into a suspect's flat and look for evidence we could use to actually convict them. However, much like the muggle government, we can't just search a flat without a written order, and that can't be obtained without the evidence that we need to search the flat for in the first place. It just feels so hopeless sometimes.”

Harry sighed heavily because it was true. There were so many times that the law hindered real justice. And yet the law was there to protect suspected criminals of being convicted of crimes that they didn't commit – which was why a crime needed to be proven.

“I don't know what I'm thinking. I'm just sad, I suppose, that so many muggle kids had to die over the years because no one could outsmart a sick and twisted old witch,” Harry murmured.

“Why don't you take off for lunch early?” Dawlish suggested. “Meet up with your mates and have a cheerful discussion about how wonderful their hypothetical future sprogs are. That'll have you right as rain in no time.”

“Yes sir,” Harry acquiesced. “Sounds good.” He promptly stood up and left before anyone could hand him a case to work on.

 

***

 

“Oh mother!” Draco called out in a mildly sing song voice as he stepped out of the fireplace. He had just returned home from a delightful trip to St. Mungo's. A house elf alerted him to the fact that Narcissa was in the sun room.

Draco Apparated to her, and then kissed her cheek. “I have the best news!”

“Should I call your father here?” Narcissa asked with a loving smile for her son.

“Why not? I suspect it will anger or possibly kill him, so that could prove to be entertaining,” Draco stated with a grin.

“Oh?” Narcissa asked in confusion as she signaled a house elf to fetch her husband.

Draco merely shrugged and waited for his father to Apparate into the room. Lucius took a seat across from his wife and accepted a cup of tea from an elf. Draco thought this was an excellent idea, so he asked for a cup as well.

“Are you ready to share your news now?” Narcissa wondered after a moment of silence.

“Of course!” Draco smirked mischievously. “I'm expecting the next Malfoy Heir.”

His parents were both silent from astonishment for a moment. Then Lucius frowned and set his tea aside. “But... you haven't informed us of any wedding plans. Surely you chose a pureblooded witch for this honor.”

Draco shrugged. “No, I think you are misunderstanding me. I said _I'm_ expecting the next Heir.” He pointed at his stomach and gave his father a significant look.

“But...” Lucius trailed off, not quite able to wrap his head around this concept.

“You're pregnant?” Narcissa asked. Secretly, she actually did feel a small thrill of joy wash through her.

“I am,” Draco confirmed, grinning at her.

“But...” Lucius tried again.

“Why didn't you tell us that you were in a serious relationship with a wizard?” Narcissa wondered with a curious smile. “Did you think that we would disown you?”

Draco shook his head. “Nothing like that. I'm not _in_ a relationship.”

Now it was Narcissa's turn to frown and mutter: “But...”

Draco serenely took another sip of his tea. “I knew that you would continue to heavily pressure me to marry and conceive an Heir by my 25 th  birthday, and I decided I was ready for children. I want to have them in case someone decides that I wasn't punished enough for my crimes and does something to me. I just don't want to be married. So I decided to simply get pregnant. That way, the child will undoubtedly be my Heir.”

“So... you purposely took a fertility potion and had a one off?” Lucius asked in confusion.

“That about covers it,” Draco agreed with a smile – a rather smug one that let his parents know that he was inordinately pleased with himself.

“But darling,” his mother pouted in protest. “You don't understand what it means to be a parent. There's a _reason_ it takes two people to conceive a child, and that's because it takes two people to care for and raise a child. Trying to do it on your own is stressful and exhausting!”

“What would you know about that?” Draco wondered a bit snarkily. “You were married _and_ had house elves to help you. I daresay that it was probably the elves who did the bulk of the work. Why should it be any different for me?”

“And... what if you are proven right and something happens to you?” Lucius wondered, trying to sound calm even though he was still in a state of shock.

“I assume that you two would do your best to ensure the next Malfoy is raised with love, but if you don't wish to be burdened with a child, you could always contact the other father,” Draco stated with a shrug.

“And who is the other father?” Narcissa asked curiously.

“He's a secret for now,” Draco informed her with a playful wink. “I played a dirty trick on him. I wanted him for a variety of reasons, but I knew he likely wouldn't want me in return, so I gave us both fertility potions and also slipped him just enough of a lust potion to make things easier on me. I figured that if he gave in at all, there would be an Heir in the future. As it happens, there is.” Draco rubbed his still flat abdomen proudly.

“Er...” His parents were torn between being proud of his ruthless ambition, and aghast at his methods.

“And when he can't ignore it any longer, he'll come shout at me and possibly try to kill me, but I can protect myself from that,” Draco stated confidently.

“Wait... can't ignore what any longer?” Narcissa asked in concern, because this implied that the other father would see Draco grow bigger with child, which was unlikely unless it was one of Draco's friends – such as Blaise.

“The fact that he's pregnant,” Draco stated serenely, asking an elf for a refill on his tea and a strawberry tart to go with it.

Lucius exhaled in shock once more as it hit him. “Because you said you slipped him a fertility potion too!”

“Exactly!” Draco exclaimed with a grin. “I got him good! And when he realizes it, he's going to come storming into Malfoy Manor shouting up a blue streak. It might possibly be the most fun I've had in years. I'm quite looking forward to it.”

“Er...” Lucius droned as he realized that he was actually speechless.

“Well...” Narcissa paused as she grasped for anything to say. “I suppose that congratulations are in order. Any idea when I can expect my grandchild?”

“My Healer says that I am currently two months along and due sometime in March – unless the baby comes early, which is common in wizard pregnancies.”

“Two months,” Narcissa murmured vaguely as she thought this over.

Draco smiled at her, understanding that she was clever enough to figure it out. “Yes, it was my gift to me on my birthday.”

Lucius finally thought of a concern to voice. “What if the other man never comes to confront you? What if he decides that he would prefer to be a single father?”

Draco sighed in mild depression. “In that case, I know that the other child will grow up loved and well cared for.”

“But that would leave a Malfoy Heir somewhere out there without the solid foundation of his family to support him,” Lucius protested, waving his hand vaguely to illustrate his point.

Draco gave him a tiny smile. “I chose well, there's no need to worry about that child. Nor this one. They're both going to be loved.”

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged unhappy looks, but neither could do anything to change the current state of affairs. All they could do was sit back and watch the situation unfold. Hopefully, Draco hadn't created _too_ big of a mess.

 

***

 

“Mate, are you okay?” Ron asked in concern.

“Fine, just tired,” Harry answered with a yawn. “I've been extremely tired lately, and it doesn't matter how much I sleep!”

“Difficult case?” Hermione wondered as she took a bite of the dinner she'd made.

Harry shook his head. “No, that's just it, it's been rather quiet lately, so I've been able to work normal hours and get plenty of sleep. You want to know the _really_ strange thing?”

“What's that?” Ron asked, heaping a second helping of the gooey and perfect Lasagna on his plate.

Harry took a large sip of water to clear the bite he'd just eaten from his mouth. “I've been _sleeping_! You know how I usually have nightmares and can't sleep very well? I toss and turn and end up getting up a couple of times during the night to get a drink or go to the loo. Well, that's not happening. For the last couple of months, I've been going to bed at night, sleeping a solid ten hours, and then waking up feeling refreshed... for about four or five hours, and then I'm exhausted again. I've even taken naps!”

“That is a bit weird,” Hermione murmured in concern. “But maybe your body is just trying to catch up on all that sleep you've missed out on over the years.”

Harry shrugged. “You're probably right.”

“How are you doing other than that?” Hermione asked.

“Great!” Harry stated with a grin. “I've got nothing to complain about.”

Ron groaned. “Now you've done it! She'll have no choice but to complain about every little detail of her current case load.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and moved the pan of Lasagna away from her husband so that he couldn't have a third portion if he wanted. “I have nothing to complain about. My work is going pretty well, thank you very much. I just can't believe that there aren't more people interested in the welfare of magical creatures!”

“How about I talk about the latest product we're working on?” Ron suggested hastily.

Harry yawned again, swaying sightly without realizing it.

“Or on second thought, perhaps you should go home and go to bed,” Ron suggested amicably.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, pushing the unfinished plate of food away and taking another large sip of water. “I don't think I can keep my eyes open much longer.”

“You want me to Apparate you home and tuck you in?” Hermione asked in concern.

“Actually, yeah,” Harry admitted. “Then you can go through all my recent deliveries and get rid of anything dangerous. Plus, I know that you've been dying to reorganize my closet again.”

Hermione snorted in amusement. “It still makes me laugh that you get so many fashionably high end outfits sent to you each month. I know you actually wear them and they look good on you, but it's just strange that you don't even own more than one pair of jeans anymore!”

Harry chuckled. “I'm more amazed that I get sent the latest broom each year – especially since they mostly just sit in my shed. I don't get to fly near often enough these days.”

“No!” Ron snorted and shook his head. “The clothes and the brooms – those are normal! I'm still amused that people send you kneazles and crups by owl on a weekly basis! What? Do they think that you run a refuge? And what was with that Llama?!”

“I may as well by this point!” Harry chuckled. He'd had to buy a house with a large property and hire an older couple to take care of all the animals he was sent by his various fans. “And that Llama makes a wonderful pet – when I get a chance to go see it.”

Hermione stood up and held out her hand. “If I have permission to reorganize your closet, I plan to take anything you haven't worn in the last two years out and donate it to charity.”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry agreed with a yawn. Hermione Apparated him straight to his bedroom, helped him strip down to his boxers, and then tucked him in. She ended with a kiss to his cheek.

“I'll just be in your closet then. Yell if you need me, yeah?”

Harry grunted in agreement, already mostly asleep.

After clearing out his closet for a good hour, Hermione set herself to opening his copious mail – that usually built up for a few weeks before it was dealt with. Ron joined her at some point, and they had a good laugh at just how many desperate love potions had been sent to Harry. Surprisingly, there was a large amount of chocolate and other candy that _wasn't_ tampered with. Much of it sent directly from their manufacturers or Harry's favorite shops. Ron confiscated all his favorites, leaving plenty for Harry to enjoy.

After organizing all the latest fashions for Harry to try on when he had time, Hermione and Ron turned off all the lights and went home.

 

***

 

Draco threw a book across his room in frustration. “It's been nearly eight months!”

A house elf silently retrieved the book and returned it to the table next to Draco's bed.

“Why hasn't he shown up to yell at me yet?! He _can't_ have just decided that I should get away with what I did!”

Since there was no one in the room to hear that question – aside from the house elf – there was no one to answer it.

“This calls for drastic measures!” Draco declared fervently, slowly getting out of bed and pulling on his favorite pair of trousers. He wanted to send a very loud and very clear message to Harry, and so he pulled on a sleek and clingy blue jumper but _no_ robes. “It's a good thing my coat is charmed to stay piping hot, otherwise I'd freeze!”

It was also a good thing that no one would question or begrudge a Malfoy shopping mere days before Christmas. It was possibly the only time that Draco could simply stroll along Diagon Alley without most people glaring at him. He planned to strut around like a peacock – with his coat hanging open – until someone from the Daily Prophet stalked him and took plenty of pictures.

What he didn't expect, was to see Harry and the weaselette traipsing along, arm in arm. As if they didn't have a care in the world. Harry laughed at something she said.

“Is he wearing a glamour?” Draco wondered aloud as he followed them from a distance.

Harry was wearing flattering and obviously warm woolen trousers – in shades of gray – and a festive red with green accents jumper. He wasn't wearing a coat, which made sense only because it was so unseasonably warm out. Draco suspected that Diagon Alley was massively charmed to retain warmth for the comfort of the shoppers.

In any case, Harry did _not_ look pregnant. Which made Draco growl as he wondered if Harry'd had an abortion. A small bulge – that _could_ be caused by his jumper bunching up slightly – was the only indication of possible pregnancy. But the size of it indicated that it was early on and was only noticeable if one knew to look for it.

Draco bit his lip in thought. He was utterly confused. “Did the potion _not_ work on him?” This would explain why Harry hadn't shown up in a deadly rage.

Draco sighed morosely and rubbed his large and obviously pregnant belly.

“Oi!” A man roared loudly enough that everyone came to a dead stop to look around. Draco noticed Harry and his red-headed temptress look vaguely in his direction, so he quickly made it appear as if he was examining the latest broom hanging in the shop window.

The man called out again. “Oi! Out of the way!” He jostled through the crowd and was the absolute center of attention until he arrived in front of Draco. “You're the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, aren't you?”

Draco sneered at him. “Obviously, or else you wouldn't have nearly tripped over yourself to pester me.”

“No need to get snippy!” He stated cheerfully. “I'm just a reporter for Witch Weekly, and you're on the list of most eligible bachelors. I noticed your delicate condition, and now I'm wondering if you're still eligible. Is there a lucky – er – _wizard_ who has taken you off the market?”

“Hardly,” Draco stated as he rolled his eyes.

“Then... If I may be so bold, how did you...” he finished his question by rolling his hand over his own stomach to indicate a large bulge.

“I took a potion, of course,” Draco stated with a shrug.

“And when is the next Heir due?”

Draco smiled fondly. “March. My mother is beside herself to have a grandchild on the way.”

The reporter grinned. “Of course she is! Any idea if it's a boy or a girl yet?”

“I decided that it didn't matter,” Draco informed him a bit frostily.

“Of course not,” the reporter agreed hastily.

“Mr. Malfoy!” A woman called out, clearly also a reporter. She muscled her way through the crowd. “Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. May I get a few pictures of you for the paper?”

“Look, I'm just shopping for Christmas. I'm not bothering anyone,” Draco said, now feeling just a bit weary.

“Darling!” Rita exclaimed as if she had been his best friend for years. “This is big news! Our readers are going to want to see for themselves that you are not only as handsome as ever, but also clearly motivated to care about the future of the Wizarding World.”

Draco gave her a tiny but patient smile. “Fine. One picture.”

“Of course!” Rita agreed with an overly wide grin.

She signaled to her photographer – who promptly took a picture of Draco. At the same time, several other photographers from various other newspapers and magazines took pictures too. The bright flashes nearly blinded him, giving him a headache. Draco rubbed his head absently, frowning at the small crowd of reporters that now surrounded him.

“Mr. Malfoy! Who is the other father of the baby?!”

“That is no one's business but mine!” Draco growled angrily, then Disapparated before anyone could ask another question. “So much for shopping,” he grumbled, forgetting that he had actually gone to Diagon with the express purpose of attracting the press.

And Harry...

Which might have actually worked.

 

***

 

Harry tossed the Daily Prophet on the table in Ron and Hermione's kitchen the next morning. “He's actually pregnant!”

Both of his friends frowned at him in mildly baffled curiosity.

“And...?” Ron wondered, puzzled.

“I didn't even know that wizards _could_ get pregnant!” Harry exclaimed in agitation.

“Well, it takes potions and a _lot_ of magic,” Hermione explained. “Malfoy must be rather powerful for it to have worked so successfully. But yes, it's possible.”

Harry frowned. “Could... Could he have taken that potion without telling the other person? I mean, is it something they both have to take?”

Ron shook his head, answering the second question. “No. If a wizard takes a fertility potion – provided that he has enough raw power at his core, he grows a temporary womb and, well, gets pregnant. He does need to have sex with a man though – otherwise it wouldn't work, and really, the woman could just get pregnant in that case.”

“So... the other father wouldn't have any idea?” Harry murmured, and even though it was a question, it sounded more like a statement.

“Not unless Malfoy told him,” Ron answered with a shrug.

“Oh God!” Harry burst out, clenching his hair in his hands as he slumped into a chair.

“Er... Mate?” Ron asked in concern.

“I think it's me!” Harry wailed softly, staring at his knees, still tugging at his hair.

“ _WHA_...?” Ron and Hermione roared simultaneously in shock.

Harry couldn't look at them. “He came across me eating dinner at my favorite muggle restaurant one night and invited me back to his place, and I have no idea why, but I went with him. And now he's pregnant!”

“Okay...” Ron replied slowly. “But... potion or not, you would've still had to 've had sex with him for you to be the other father.”

At that, Harry looked up at Ron with a rather significant expression that clearly said: _Duh_!

“Oh...” Ron muttered in understanding and mild shock. “Er...”

Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Is that something you wanted to do for a long time?”

“What?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Have sex with Malfoy,” Hermione clarified. “Or was it just one of those things where you were curious and wanted to try it when given an opportunity?”

“Probably that,” Harry admitted. “Because I had never thought about it before that night. But it was good enough that I've thought about it a lot since then.”

“Okay,” Ron said as he rubbed his eyes – as if trying to banish a mental image. “I can understand the trying it because you're curious thing, but did it have to be _Malfoy_?”

Harry stared into the cup of tea Hermione had set to steep in front of him. “Well... I suppose that it did. We were simply sitting there, drinking some wine... and we weren't arguing or anything, but I'm not sure we were really talking much either. Just sort of talking about inane things, and then I had the strangest urge to kiss him. I _really_ wanted him, so I – er – asked him to, well. And he invited me back to his place.”

Hermione frowned. “Wait... so you had never thought about it before that night, and suddenly you wanted him, and now he's pregnant.”

“That sounds like the rat bastard slipped a lust potion in your drink!” Ron growled as his hands flexed and twitched – as if he was imagining himself strangling the pointy blond git.

Harry frowned and thought about this. “Can a lust potion simply make me in the mood to try something new? Because I didn't feel overwhelmed. I didn't feel like I _had_ to have him or anything like that. I do remember feeling confused and I couldn't figure out why I had agreed – and hell! Suggested it in the first place! But I didn't feel out of my mind or under the influence of anything. I felt a bit drunk... and horny...”

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose that would depend on the lust potion and how much he gave you. If it was a potion meant to be subtle, and he only gave you enough to influence you, then yes... I'm sure there's a potion made to do exactly that.”

Harry was still frowning and lost in thought. “But... I liked it. I didn't wake up the next morning thinking that something bad had happened. I didn't feel used or anything. That said, I _did_ decide to consider it a one time thing and tried to forget about it.”

Hermione frowned again. “Why? If you liked it, why did you want to forget about it?”

Harry let out a heavy sigh. “Because it was all I could think about for days! I wanted to go back to Malfoy Manor and ask for another go, but I didn't want Malfoy to laugh at me and call me pathetic – or anything like that.”

“Oh Harry...” Hermione whispered sympathetically, rubbing his back.

Harry grunted and placed a hand over his abdomen. “Do you have any potions to relieve gas? I've had indigestion and bloating for weeks now. I mean feel this,” he placed one of her hands on his stomach, just above his belly button. “There's even a small hard ball where the gas seems to be trapped and turning around in circles.”

Hermione rubbed his stomach with her hand for a few long moments, biting her lip and frowning in thought the entire time. She then shoved the hand against Ron's stomach and rubbed around for a few seconds. With a curious expression, she returned her hand to Harry's belly.

“You're right... There is a weird hardness where there shouldn't be. And it seems to go all the way down to this little bulge... How long have you had this?” Hermione wondered, lightly tapping the bulge.

Harry blushed just a little and shrugged. “I don't really know. It's just something that happened now that I'm Deputy Head Auror and no longer out in the field. Everyone warned me that I'd get fat if I wasn't careful. And the last two months or so, I've wanted to eat everything in sight! I must have half a dozen biscuits each morning after eating my eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and orange juice. God, that sounds good... I've been eating three or four oranges a day, drinking juice like it's been declared a rare substance, and then there's the chocolate ice cream. I have practically a pint of it each night before I go to bed!”

Harry moaned happily as he thought about this, and then summoned a plate of freshly baked biscuits from their counter. They were peanut butter and oatmeal, and absolutely _needed_ a tall glass of milk to go with them. “Have I mentioned the milk? I've been drinking a good liter of milk each day with my biscuits. Is it really any wonder that I'm getting a little fat?”

Hermione was practically chewing on her lip now. She slowly used her free hand to grab her wand and aim it at her best friend. “Gravida Probatur!”

Harry abruptly lit up a bright golden yellow. Hermione's eyes went wide in shock. Harry tilted his head to the side and regarded her curiously.

“What?” He asked even as Ron grabbed a few biscuits from the plate.

“Yeah, what?” Ron asked around a mouthful of biscuit. “Harry been cursed?” He unknowingly agreed that this event called for milk, and summoned a glass jar of it from the fridge.

“I...” Hermione stopped and swallowed nervously. “I _really_ think that you should go see a Healer.”

Harry noticed the way she was rubbing his back again. And the way that she wouldn't quite look him in the eye. And the nervous tension she now had in her back and shoulders.

“What's wrong?” Harry demanded with a frown. “Why are you suddenly tense?”

“You need to go see a Healer,” Hermione insisted firmly. “Right now.”

Since Harry had just shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth, he had to take a long drink of milk to help him chew and swallow it so he could talk. “Er... why?”

Hermione wrung her hands and abruptly paced to the other side of her kitchen.

“Love?” Ron asked in concern. “What's wrong?”

“For the love of Merlin! Harry! Can't you just go to the damn Healer?!” Hermione burst out in frustration.

Harry scoffed. “You know how I feel about Healers! Unless I'm dying, I'd rather just heal myself.”

Hermione sighed and looked at the ceiling as she prayed for patience. “Well... Keep in mind that I could be wrong. That spell could have given me the wrong result, however...” she cast the spell again, and Harry lit up golden yellow once more. She sighed again, this time sounding defeated. “According to this, you're... pregnant...”

“Wait, what?” Harry spluttered, nearly spitting out a mouthful of biscuit and milk.

“Pregnant?!” Ron roared incredulously, as if _he_ was the one Hermione was referring to. “But that's _impossible_! Harry would have had to let the ferret _shag him_!”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from Ron. “Er... _Well_...” he trailed off with a blush.

Hermione got to her knees in front of Harry and took his hands in hers. “Harry, _please_ come with me to St. Mungo's. If you really _are_ pregnant, that would make you due at the same time as Malfoy, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted.

“And the papers report that he's due in March – which is only three months from now. You should be a _lot_ bigger! You should look like he does.” She pointed to the picture of Draco looking rather pleased and rubbing his belly before glaring – at the bevy of photographers and reporters who had basically mobbed him by that point.

Harry paled. “You... You not only think I'm pregnant, but you think there's something _wrong_ with my baby?”

Hermione looked near tears. “I think you really need to go see a Healer.”

Harry sighed. More than half of him was in denial. There's _no way_ that he could possibly be pregnant! But the rest of him was worried. Hermione wasn't the type to cry for any reason – unless something was seriously wrong. He gulped in apprehension.

“Alright,” he solemnly agreed.

A half an hour later, they were waiting in an exam room. Ron had opted to go to work rather than accompany them, which was probably a good thing since there wasn't much extra space in the room. Harry was secretly glad because Ron was probably still muttering about devious bastards getting best mates up the duff.

“Good morning,” the Healer greeted them. She was an older woman who looked like she knew how to smile and laugh. She winked at Harry. “I'm Healer Rowe, and as I understand it, there's a possible pregnancy here?”

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed as she squeezed Harry's hand.

Healer Rowe cast the pregnancy test spell on Hermione – who lit up yellow. “Well that confirms it, congratulations my dear.”

Hermione gasped incredulously and gaped at the Healer for a long moment. Harry was staring at his best friend in confusion. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Wait, so could Hermione being pregnant without knowing it be the reason that I lit up yellow when she cast the spell on me?” He asked.

“What?” Healer Rowe asked in confusion. “No. The state of the person casting the spell doesn't matter.”

Since Hermione could see that the Healer wasn't quite on the right page yet, she cast the spell on Harry again.

“Oh... Well, this is unexpected,” Rowe murmured in surprise.

“Tell me about it,” Harry muttered.

Hermione took over again since Harry was definitely farther along and thus more important than her own shocking news. “According to the conversation we had this morning, Harry is almost certainly due in March, but he doesn't look pregnant at all – aside from a small bulge. And I'm also worried because he didn't really have any symptoms of pregnancy. No nausea, at least not that he ever told me.”

“Nope, none,” Harry confirmed. “I was perpetually exhausted for a while, but then it was like I woke up one day and got hungry. Other than that...” he shrugged.

Healer Rowe listened to them carefully, using her hands to examine Harry's belly. “Hmm... well, it's hard to tell for certain with a baby bump this small, but based on the position of the fundus, the estimate of seven to eight months would seem to be correct. Here...” she paused to cast a diagnostic spell that created a flesh colored hologram of the uterus.

There was relative silence as Rowe studied the measurements. “Aside from being a bit small, this looks good. It's nestled rather snugly inside Harry, and perhaps the baby...” She zoomed in so that the spell showed the baby inside the womb. “Yes... The baby seems to be curled into a tight fetal position with its back to Harry's spine. I've seen this once or twice before, and though it _sounds_ ridiculous, it's almost as if the baby was hiding in there on purpose. I would not be at all surprised it he or she makes her presence a bit more felt now that you know he's in there.”

As if proving the Healer's point, the baby kicked out a leg rather forcefully. Harry gasped and pressed a hand to his belly.

“I _felt_ that!”

Healer Rowe smiled at him. “I'd have been shocked if you hadn't.”

“But...” Harry trailed off as he thought about this very carefully. “I've only felt little wobbles like gas before now.” He shrugged. “Certainly nothing as noticeable as that was.”

“Some babies just aren't as active as others,” Rowe assured him with a genuine smile. “Your baby is measuring a bit on the small side... Are you _sure_ you're likely to be due in March? The baby is certainly well formed and on track for then, but small...”

“There was literally only one day that I could have conceived, and I had no idea that the other father had slipped me a fertility potion, so... Yeah. Despite not knowing that I was pregnant until this morning, I'm certain of that.”

“Alright,” Rowe accepted with a smile. “Have you been eating enough?”

Harry scoffed. “You wouldn't have to ask me that if you watched me pack away an entire five course meal on a nightly basis!”

Rowe chuckled. “No, I suppose I wouldn't. Can you describe for me the types of things you eat?”

Harry's appointment progressed until he felt like he had a fairly good grasp on this concept of being pregnant. Rowe finally decided that based on all her measurements, he was approximately 32 out of 40 weeks, which also fit with what they knew of the conception date and Draco's announcement that _he_ was due in March.

Then, Rowe moved onto Hermione and discovered that she was only about four weeks along, which explained why she hadn't even suspected yet. Harry promised not to tell Ron until she had time to figure out how to tell him. She wanted it to be just right, and Harry knew that it wasn't his news to tell anyway.

After that, they left the Healer laden with potions and binders full of information on pregnancy. Harry's binder was specifically tailored for wizards while Hermione's was made for witches. Harry felt a moment of sadness that he wasn't at the beginning of the pregnancy with Hermione so that they could go through it together. Then he shook that thought away and thanked every God he had ever heard of that he somehow managed to get through eight whole months of pregnancy without knowing it!

And they said pregnancy was hard. Ha!

 

***

 

Draco was thoroughly uncomfortable and couldn't _wait_ for his child to be born already! At only 32 weeks, he still had eight more to go. Unless the baby was late by a week or two. That thought was terrifying! He already had an aching back and feet that were swollen. His stomach felt cramped and bruised – as if someone had beaten him up, though no one had.

It was _so not_ worth all this discomfort! Draco took a deep breath and sighed. “Alright, fine. So it might be worth it to have a precious Malfoy Heir, but never again!”

Lucius snorted in amusement, but he didn't stop reading his paperwork.

“Did you say something?” Narcissa asked with a knowing look in her eyes. She was working on light business arrangements of her own but set the papers aside to focus on him.

Draco growled lightly. “Just that I'm getting fed up with being pregnant! This baby needs to hurry up and come out already!”

“I think I'll firecall the massage therapist and ask her to come over right away,” Narcissa suggested. “After she rubs your feet and back – at the very least – you'll feel a lot better.”

Draco stretched out on the divan. “Yes please!”

An elf popped into the large, elegant, yet somehow cozy parlor before Narcissa could move.

“Master Draco, sir. You have a visitor asking for you.”

Draco yawned a bit as he stretched. “Who? Pansy? Blaise? Greg?”

“A Mister Harry Potter, sir,” the elf stated.

Draco sat up abruptly, which caught his parents attention even more than the unexpected visitor.

“ _It's about time!_ ” Draco roared indignantly. “Show him...” He bit thumb nail lightly in thought and mentally sorted through all the rooms available. Which one would be the best for an argument? “Hmm, perhaps it would be best to do this in the Gazebo, which would at least be too cold for a proper fight.”

“Nonsense!” Narcissa vetoed. “Show our guest in here, and see to it that there's tea and biscuits ready to serve the moment he sits down.”

“Yes Mistress!” The elf squeaked before popping out of the room.

Lucius and Narcissa watched their son square his shoulders and compose his face. Even if he hadn't mentioned fighting, it would have been obvious by the way he held himself that he expected a brawl or a duel. He even checked to make sure that he had his wand on hand.

It took almost two whole minutes for the elf to escort Harry into the room. The moment the door opened, the room got noticeably tenser. However, since Lucius and Narcissa were both in chairs with tall backs facing away from the door, only Draco was visible on the long divan.

“You are a damn bastard!” Harry shouted.

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Draco sneered at the exact same time. “Was it my picture in the paper, or did your tiny brain finally manage to notice the obvious?”

“Exactly when and _how_ did you manage to slip me a potion?!” Harry demanded angrily.

Draco crossed his arms haughtily and slung one leg over the other. Which would have been more impressive if his large belly wasn't in the way. “Like I'm going to tell you. You're an _Auror_ , for Merlin's sake! If you didn't notice it, that's _your_ fault!”

Harry growled in frustration. “You're right, I should have noticed, and more importantly, _why would you do that?!_ ”

“I was bored,” Draco drawled poshly.

Harry gaped incredulously. “You were _bored_ so you decided – on a whim – to get us both _pregnant_!”

“More or less,” Draco stated with a shrug.

“I should hex you!” Harry roared in frustration, his hands pulling at his hair.

Draco made a sound as if scandalized. “Why Potter, you'd hex an innocent, unborn child?”

“Argh!” Harry once more roared in frustration, his hands curling in front of him as if he was imagining himself choking Draco.

Draco smirked in satisfaction. “Well, as interesting as this has been, perhaps you should go away now before you manage to choke yourself.”

Harry stood up as straight as possible and glared at Draco. “That's it? You don't even care about the child _you_ put inside me?”

At this, Draco uncrossed his legs and arms and sat forward just a bit. “Actually, I was curious about one thing. I saw you when I was out shopping – before I was mobbed by reporters – and you didn't look pregnant. Were you using a glamour?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I'm just carrying it well, apparently. So well that I had no idea it was in there until this morning.”

“ _How could you not_?!” Draco asked incredulously. “I feel like I have a bludger made from solid iron inside me!”

Harry shrugged. “There really wasn't much to notice other than sleeping really well for a while followed by eating everything in sight.”

“You have _got_ to be joking!”

It was Harry's turn to smirk. “Does that mean that you've had to _suffer_ from this bored whim of yours?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It _means_ that there are a lot of little things that combine to become obvious? Are you blind that you couldn't see them? And Merlin's rotting brain, Potter! Stop standing there like a moron and sit down! Say hello to my parents like a civilized person.” Draco waved his hand in a half circle with his palm up in front of him to indicate that Lucius and Narcissa were sitting right there.

Speaking of, they were both torn between concern and amusement. With a bit of shock thrown in for good measure. They hadn't interrupted the argument mostly because they had no idea what to say.

Harry gulped to swallow an angry retort. “Er... right...” He finished walking closer – having stopped back where he was in the first place so that he wouldn't act on the temptation to strangle Draco.

Draco scooted to the side of the divan with the taller back and arm, then pointed to the other end. Harry took the hint and settled down as far from Draco as possible. He wobbled for a moment and nearly fell off the side that had no back or arm, but then steadied himself.

“Good day, Mr. Potter. Lovely to see you again,” Narcissa greeted him with a gracious smile.

Harry gave her a genuine smile. He had a soft spot for her since she had lied to Voldemort for him. “Good day, Mrs. Malfoy. … Mr. Malfoy.”

Lucius harrumphed a bit grumpily.

“Please excuse my husband,” Narcissa murmured smoothly. “He's still suffering from the shock of finding out that _you_ are the other father of our grandchild, er, children.”

Harry raised a brow and leaned slightly away from Draco as he looked at him. “You didn't even tell _them_?”

“It wasn't necessary unless you decided to confront me,” Draco replied with a shrug. “For all I knew, you had gotten rid of it and planned to never speak to me again.”

Harry rubbed his temples, still highly frustrated by the situation. An elf popped into the room and served them all biscuits and tea, as ordered. Harry examined the refreshments for a moment before deciding that he didn't care if it was unforgivably rude; he cast an array of detection spells on them.

“Please!” Draco scoffed derisively. “As if we would poison the precious Savior.”

Harry glared at him. “I'm actually more concerned about lust or fertility potions.”

Draco wore a completely inscrutable expression. “Been there, done that, no need to do it again.”

A new elf popped into the room, but rather than say anything, he or she simply released a nondescript brown owl that flew over to Draco and dropped a plain, blank manila envelope in his lap. The owl seemed to glare at Draco for one second before flying toward the nearest window – which the elf discretely opened to let him out.

Draco barely glanced at the envelope on his lap as he finished the last of his tea. “Looks like I'm going to have to cut this _delightful_ chat short.”

“Why?” Narcissa asked with a frown.

“Nothing to worry about. I simply have to take care of an assignment for the Ministry as per the terms of my never-ending probation,” Draco replied mildly.

“Still? After all this time?” Narcissa asked in concern. “What does the ministry have you doing?”

Draco shrugged. “As I said, nothing to worry about. The last time, I simply had to visit an old lady with an alarming amount of cats.”

“And?” Narcissa pressed suspiciously.

“And I interrupted her dinner plans,” Draco replied with nothing but calmness. “Then I left.”

“That's all? Then why send you?” Narcissa wondered, clearly puzzled.

“The Ministry was concerned about her,” Draco explained with another shrug.

Harry realized that he was giving Draco a side eye look of incredulous disbelief and had to stop before either Lucius or Narcissa asked him if he knew anything. But really! How did Draco manage to tell his mother the truth about what happened without spilling the beans on the fact that he – apparently – had arranged it so that vicious old hag had fallen and died at the teeth of her cats?

And now that Harry thought about it, how _had_ he managed that anyway? It had been done so subtly that Harry hadn't really thought Draco'd had anything to do with it until just now. Without warning, a new thought completely flustered Harry.

“But er... even if the Ministry likes to send you out on harmless visits, shouldn't they stop doing that now that you are so very pregnant? What if something happened? What if you slipped on some ice?” Harry asked in concern.

Narcissa smiled at the obvious worry in Harry's voice, but then chuckled. “Oh really! Being pregnant isn't an excuse to stop working! Can you honestly tell me that you plan to stop working a moment before you have to?”

“Er...” Harry began hesitantly. “Well, I haven't had time to think about it. However, I'm the Deputy Head Auror; my job is mostly paperwork and organizing Aurors out in the field. I have a feeling that I'll be in bed feeding this baby with one hand and filling out forms in triplicate with the other.” Harry snorted derisively. “And liaising via firecall and owl.”

“Your concern is touching, Potter, but there's no need to worry about me,” Draco assured him snidely. “I'll be just fine.”

Harry sighed grumpily and muttered under his breath: “Still a bastard.” He took a breath and added in a regular tone of voice... with a hint of sneer. “In your boredom, did you give any thought to what we're supposed to do now?”

“I assumed that we'd figure that part out if you ever got around to storming over here and yelling at me,” Draco stated as if he was bored. “I got what I wanted – a child with no strings attached. I also figured that the two of us fight so much that we'd probably just agree to avoid each other.”

“Then maybe you don't know as much about me as you think you do, Malfoy,” Harry growled with narrow eyes. “Because I'm not the type of person to think: well, I have a child over there but I don't like his or her dad, so I'm just going to pretend like it doesn't exist.”

Draco sighed in mild aggravation. “Look, you must have heard how all the former Death Eaters are slowly being hunted down and eliminated. I figure that it's only a matter of time before someone comes after us,” he gestured back and forth between his father and himself. “I wanted to make sure that I did my duty to continue the family, and I chose you because no matter which way it happened – me getting pregnant or you, I hadn't really thought we both would – then _you_ would do whatever it took to make sure that the child lived. Honestly, who would dare target the child of the Savior of the Wizarding World?”

Harry was slowly moving from merely angry to outraged. “So... You thought it would be fine to _use me_ because I'm the person most likely to ensure your spawn lives long enough to have more Heirs for _your_ family?”

“Yes,” Draco stated, his tone so self assured that Harry was tempted to throttle him again.

Harry rubbed his temples in exasperation. “You know what? I think I do need to leave and think this over for a while.”

“You do that, and try not to overtax your brain while you're at it,” Draco said in a tone that anyone else might have used to give a compliment.

Without another word, Harry stood up and followed a house elf to the nearest fireplace for travel by Floo.

“He has remarkable restraint,” Narcissa murmured thoughtfully. Then she narrowed her eyes at her son. “That was a terrible thing you did! You should be ashamed of yourself! I _know_ we've made it clear that you're supposed to get married _before_ you have children.”

Draco shrugged, not sorry in the slightest. “I didn't _want_ to get married.”

Lucius stroked his chin as he mused. “You know, I think you really might have chosen well. Any child of Harry Potter's is bound to be protected. It also looks like you delight in angering him, which I can certainly understand.”

“Highlight of my year, really,” Draco replied with a grin. Then he stood and brushed some crumbs off his soft silk robes. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take care of this.” He held up the blank envelope for a moment before Disapparating from the room.

Narcissa giggled very softly for a moment before covering her mouth.

“What?” Lucius asked curiously.

Narcissa shook her head, but then answered him. “It just seems to me that the Dark Lord had it all backwards. He should have focused on killing Dumbledore himself and sent our son after Harry Potter. If Draco had done this back then, the war might have had a vastly different outcome.”

Lucius harrumphed softly. “Well, I think we can both be grateful that the Dark Lord had too much pride and not enough brains.”

“True,” Narcissa agreed with a serene smile. After that, they both returned to their respective paperwork.

 

***

 

Harry could not decide how he felt about talking with Draco ever again. On the one hand, he didn't want to simply abandon the child that Draco carried, but on the other hand, he still wanted to hex Draco into oblivion for doing this to him. Thus, he decided to push that away for later and focus on what he _could_ decide. All the little details that needed to be addressed.

Stating with: “Sir, I need to tell you something important.”

Dawlish waved a hand at the empty seat across from his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you...” Harry murmured absently as he sat. He didn't think he'd do any better beating around the bush, so he simply blurted it out. “I'm pregnant. I didn't know about it until yesterday, but I'm eight months along and I figured that I should tell you right away so that we can plan out how to handle the situation when I give birth.” Harry held out the moving picture that the Healer had taken during the hologram spell that let her measure the baby.

“You're... serious?” Dawlish asked in surprise.

“Yes sir,” Harry confirmed a bit grimly.

“How did this happen?” Dawlish wondered, still surprised but now curious as well.

“Well, someone I know decided all on his own that I'd make the perfect father for his children, so he slipped me a couple of potions without telling me, and now,” Harry gestured to his stomach. “And no, I don't wish to press charges because I really don't think that would help the situation.”

“I... see...” Dawlish gave Harry a look like he was thinking that charges should definitely be pressed and he couldn't understand why Harry wasn't.

Harry decided to outline what he thought might be a reasonable contingency plan for after the baby was born. Dawlish gave the picture back as he listened. When Harry was done, Dawlish smiled a bit wryly.

“Listen, I have kids. I don't think you quite understand how demanding they are for the first few months,” Dawlish stated. “I think that we can try to follow your plan but that you need to let yourself be flexible. You're going to want to spend at least the first week in bed, and then you're going to be so tired that you don't even want to _think_ about work. When the time comes, just let yourself focus on the baby. The rest can wait until you're ready to come back to work.”

Harry sighed, feeling more relieved than he thought he would. “Thank you, sir.”

“I'll use the time before the baby comes to carefully select someone to be the acting Deputy, so you won't have to worry about that either.”

Before Harry could say anything, one of the Aurors that was always trying to suck up to Harry poked his head in the door. “Have you seen this yet?”

Harry shrugged and held out his hand for the file. He muttered his thanks as the Auror wisely took his leave. Harry read through the file slowly, his mind suddenly running in circles.

“It seems that _that muggle_ that's been hunting and killing witches and wizards – and anyone he _thinks_ are witches and wizards – has been found dead in a hotel room. Preliminary reports indicate that he overdosed on a muggle drug to make him fall asleep, took a bath, and then drowned,” Harry informed his boss.

Dawlish smiled. “Well doesn't that make our job so much easier? We'd been trying to find him for months, but he's kept one step ahead of us. I just love when violent criminals accidentally off themselves.”

“Right...” Harry murmured vaguely as if he was agreeing. Instead, he was wondering if this was another assignment of Draco's, and if so, how did the pointy git manage to leave no evidence of foul play? “Er... I think I should go tell Kingsley my news before he hears rumors.”

Dawlish snorted in amusement. “That man dotes on you! One might think that he considers you an honorary son!”

Harry smiled at that. “I don't mind.” Then he left to do as he'd said.

A few minutes later, the Minister of Magic's secretary was flirting shamelessly with Harry as he waited for Kingsley to finish up a prior appointment. The two of them always flirted when they saw each other, but weren't actually interested in dating. It was simply a game to them. Not to mention, the witch was about 20 years older than Harry.

“I'd take you back to mine for a few hours, but sadly, my husband cast a variety of surveillance spells to curb my naughtiness,” she informed him with a sultry laugh.

“Aww, that's too bad,” Harry murmured in mock disappointment. “There's always my place. I can guarantee that it's free of surveillance spells.”

She purred and got her face very close to his as if she was going to give him a soft kiss. “Mmm... tempting...”

Someone cleared their throat loudly, making them both look around curiously. To Harry's surprise, Draco was standing not too far behind them. His expression was positively murderous for one second before he smoothed it into a mask of boredom.

“I'm supposed to have an appointment with Aguilar today, but it seems that he's not in his office,” Draco informed the secretary.

She sniffed haughtily, as if she thought him beneath her but had to give him some attention anyway. “The entire Department of Mysteries has decided to take off early for Christmas break, thus you will have to return on the third of January.”

Draco made a sound of obvious frustration.

Harry decided to be courteous. “Hello Draco. How's the baby?”

“Fine, thank you,” Draco replied with a prickly smile. “How's yours, _Harry_?”

“Same as yesterday. That's what I'm here to talk to Kingsley about,” Harry informed him. The secretary gasped in surprise.

Draco looked bored again. “Will you be visiting the Manor again today? I'm sure mother would love to have you over for dinner.”

“I suppose that depends on why you're inviting me,” Harry answered with a shrug.

“To discuss the future of our children, obviously,” Draco sneered.

“What, like joint custody or something?” Harry wondered curiously. The secretary gasped again, but they weren't paying her any attention.

Draco shrugged. “Shared custody might make things easier on both of us.”

“Something like we each keep the one we give birth to during the week and then both of them go to you one weekend and me the next?” Harry suggested, thinking about how that might work.

“That's a surprisingly logical suggestion, coming from you,” Draco murmured in surprise.

“Yeah sure, I'll come over for dinner. There's something else I want to talk to you about anyway,” Harry informed him.

Draco gave him a small but genuine smile. “In that case, I'll have the house elves make something special. Is there anything in particular you're craving?”

Harry scoffed in the same tone he used when being playful with his best friends. “Oh don't even get me started! What _aren't_ I craving? I think I've devoured every shrimp in the ocean by now! And chocolate ice cream! I could probably put Fortescue's out of business.”

Draco smirked knowingly. “Any aversion to lobster?”

“Sounds good,” Harry stated. The secretary hummed softly in agreement.

“Then I'd better go. See you later,” Draco said in valediction before promptly turning around and leaving.

“Later,” Harry called after him. He stood wondering what to say to the secretary for a long moment as she also stared at him in silence.

“Harry!” Kingsley exclaimed happily a moment later. His guest looked disappointed to be leaving just as Harry had arrived, but shook the Minister's hand goodbye nonetheless.

Inside his office a moment later, Kingsley and Harry shared a brief hug. Then Harry told Kingsley his news. They discussed it far more frankly than Harry had with anyone else so far – mostly because he hadn't had time.

“But that's not the real reason I wanted to talk to you,” Harry confessed about a half an hour later – after they'd been served tea and biscuits and the secretary had left again.

“Oh?” Kingsley asked with a tone of clear interest.

Harry took a deep breath and sighed. “I normally hate to do anything like this, but... well... I would like you to officially put an end to Draco Malfoy's – er – _service_ to the Ministry. It's been five – almost six years; surely he's repaid his debt by now.”

“I wasn't aware that young Malfoy was in service to the Ministry,” Kingsley murmured, stroking his chin in thought. “But that's not so unusual because I could hardly be expected to know every person that works here. It would be nearly unheard of for me to intervene in affairs of personnel; however, I can see that this is important to you.”

“Yes. Very,” Harry stated anxiously. “As the other father of my children, I'm worried... From what I've heard, his assignments could potentially be very dangerous, and now that he's eight months pregnant, I don't think he should be working here any longer.”

“What does he think about you trying to get him fired?” Kingsley asked shrewdly.

“He doesn't want to do it anymore,” Harry stated confidently.

“Alright,” Kingsley acknowledged. “Any idea what department he works for?”

“Department of Mysteries, under someone named Aguilar,” Harry answered, but then shrugged because that was all the information he knew.

“Ah...” Kingsley murmured in sudden clarity. “This may take some delicate negotiation, but I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said respectfully to show how grateful he was.

“ _Harry_ ,” Kingsley admonished gently, but then changed the subject. “My assistant is resigning next month and I had originally planned to offer the job to you, but now I rather think that you'll be too busy to do the job justice.”

“I think so too,” Harry replied with a relieved grin.

“So, do you think that your friend Hermione would want the job?” Kingsley asked.

“I think that she would normally be thrilled to have it, however...” Harry grinned and shrugged. “She's pregnant too, but don't let on you know until after she's had a chance to tell Ron. That said, I'm sure she could give you a good seven or eight months before the baby is born if you need someone to help out until you can find someone more permanent.”

“Maybe this is for the best,” Kingsley mused as he looked to the ceiling. “Dawlish is supposed to retire next year. If I made you my personal assistant, I honestly have no idea who I'd make Head Auror.”

Harry was honored for one second before he felt a sense of horror fill him.

“What's wrong?” Kingsley asked in concern

“I just realized that that means that I'll be stuck in interdepartmental meetings on a weekly basis!” Harry whinged, pulling on his hair.

“They're not so bad,” Kingsley assured him with an irreverent wink.

“Yeah?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Yeah, we tend to order in lunch and if it goes past dinner, we adjourn to the finest restaurants – but that's usually rare. Normally, we all agree to get the meeting over with quickly so that we can leave for the day.”

“Good to know,” Harry said in relief.

They continued to chitchat until the secretary announced the arrival of the next appointment. Kingsley stood up and gave Harry another brief hug. “Always a pleasure to talk with you, Harry.”

“You as well,” Harry replied with a fond smile. The smile lingered until the door of Kingsley's office was opened to reveal Rita Skeeter waiting for her appointment. Harry let out a small groan and a sigh of defeat.

“Harry!” Rita cried out in delight. “What brings you here?”

Harry quirked a brow at her. “Kingsley is a good friend of mine. Why do I need a reason to visit him?”

Rita clearly didn't believe him. “Oh come now, Harry. The Minister is far too busy to indulge in idle chats with friends.”

Harry took a deep breath as Kingsley made a noise of disapproval over Rita's statement. A feeling of inevitability washed over Harry. This brought the thought: _fuck it!_

“Well Rita,” Harry replied with a soft smile. “I was just telling Kingsley how I'm expecting my own bundle of joy in a couple of months. We were having tea and biscuits, but now I've really got to go.”

As Harry stepped around her, Rita spluttered and half tried to follow him before Kingsley grabbed her arm. “But Harry! You _can't_ tell me news that huge and simply walk away!”

Harry had made good his escape and was already quite far away. He turned back to look at the tenacious and rather unpleasant reporter. “Sorry, Rita. I've got better things to do than answer your questions.”

“Well, at least he's honest about it,” Rita muttered in disappointment, then she plastered her trademark grin on her face and returned her attention to the Minister of Magic. “Let's have that interview, shall we?”

Harry chuckled as he waited for the lift to arrive. He'd bet his last Knut that tomorrow's Prophet would waste a front page on his little tidbit. If Rita was damn lucky, she might manage to scrounge up more information, but he doubted it.

A secretive wink from the secretary assured him that she knew better than to discuss his conversation with Draco. Thus, Harry wondered if Rita would try Imperiusing Kingsley to pump him for information. It could be interesting in that it would give him an excuse to visit her as an Auror. The thought was a pleasing one, almost enough to keep him grinning the rest of the day.

 

***

 

Harry left the office early since everyone aside from a handful of unlucky Aurors had a half day in honor of Christmas hols. Harry wouldn't have to return until January third unless called in for an emergency. At the moment, he was looking forward to using that time to shop for things the baby would need.

On his way home, he stopped at the hotel where the muggle witch hunter had died. It was still considered an active crime scene – even though the death had been ruled accidental. The muggle police were liaising with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to determine just how many victims the man had murdered over the years, and a trio of careworn scrapbooks indicated that there might be close to 60 dead over the course of 20 years.

It made Harry's heart clench painfully to think that this man had gotten away with murdering so many people for so long. Cases like this always reminded him of Voldemort. Why did there have to be so many criminally insane people in the world?

Despite the curious looks from the investigative team, Harry conducted his own search for magical traces, and found none – aside from two genuine wands the killer had confiscated from his victims at some point. This pointed to a very obvious question.

Harry sat down next to a middle aged wizard he recognized from the DMLE. “So... any idea how many of the victims were actually one of ours?”

“About a third of them, sir,” the wizard replied grimly. “More than half of the muggles killed were self proclaimed new age witches, and at least one of the muggles was a professional stage magician.”

Harry sighed and rested his head in his hands. “How did he get away with it for so long?”

“He was very careful not to get caught, sir.”

One of the muggle officers placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. “Even with all the advances in technology we've had, there are still a lot of criminals that manage to evade capture or cover their tracks so that we can't pin their crimes on them. All we can do is keep digging. And try to not let it get to us.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his voice thick with emotion. With a respectful nod at the team, he left.

 

***

 

“How'd you do it?” Harry wondered after they'd finished eating dinner and Draco had invited Harry back to his enormous room to talk.

Draco sighed in annoyance. “If you must know, I glamoured myself into the waiter and slipped the potions into your wine glass. Happy now?”

“What? Er...” Harry was distracted for a moment. “Damn! I _knew_ there was something off about that waiter!” Then he shook his head. “No, I was referring to the muggle that hunted witches and wizards.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “From what I heard, he drowned during his bath.”

Harry gave him a look that plainly stated: _Don't insult my intelligence_.

Draco sighed in mild aggravation. “I'm not allowed to tell you any details.”

“You have before,” Harry reminded him.

“Not details,” Draco stated. “Just a statement that may or may not be interpreted as an admission of guilt.”

Harry gave him a flat look.

“Look, you're an Auror – Deputy Head! I can't just confess all my sins to you,” Draco informed him.

“Alright, that's fair,” Harry admitted with a tilted nod. “I was just curious, is all. I visited the crime scene and couldn't find any trace of you, so... Well... I'm impressed, if I'm honest.”

Draco shrugged, looking as if he was torn between being wary of and pleased by the compliment. His expression turned to concern a moment later when Harry gasped and clutched his abdomen. “Something wrong?”

“I don't think so,” Harry replied slowly, breathing in a purposely slow and deep way. “I'm just not used to the baby kicking yet. I swear, he or she didn't really move at all until I found out that I was pregnant yesterday, and look!” He pulled up his baggy jumper. “I actually look pregnant now.

Draco frowned as he studied the bump. Previously, Harry had only a hint of a bulge, like someone who was approximately three or four months pregnant. Now, he looked at least five months along. Still not as big as Draco, but definitely bigger than before.

“And the Healer was sure there was nothing wrong with the baby?” Draco asked.

“She said the baby was fine; small but well formed. Measuring within allowed parameters for 32 weeks,” Harry explained with his hands held up as if he was saying: _I have no experience with pregnancy, so I don't know anything about it_.

Draco decided to change the subject a bit. He conjured a calendar to float in front of them. “So, if we stick with your suggestion of every other weekend, are there any in particular that you want the kids for? Or perhaps specific weekends you _don't_ want the kids? And what about holidays?”

Harry sighed heavily and abruptly sat on Draco's bed. “I just realized that it's stupid of us to try to plan this out so rigidly. I mean yes, it will be good to have a definite plan, but things are going to happen. I'll need to find someone to watch the baby while I'm working – which will hopefully be Molly – but what if I need to lead a raid on an illegal potions lab in the middle of the night? What if I need to head up a team to take down a nest of Dark Wizards on a Christmas that supposed to be my turn to have the kids? What if –”

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed softly, sitting on the bed next to him and grabbing Harry's hand to get his attention. “You don't have to worry so much. Even if you were called out for an emergency in the middle of the night, you would be welcome to drop the baby off here. Not only would I be home, but if for any reason I wasn't, my mother and the house elves could watch the baby.”

Harry took a couple of breaths to calm down. “You're right. I... It's just... I haven't really had any time to think about any of this.”

Draco smirked a bit. “I'm not sorry, but I was serious when I said that I only thought one of us would get pregnant. I gave us both the fertility potion so that whatever happened, I'd have the child I wanted. I actually thought that it would be just me getting pregnant, but then you let me shag you first and I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.”

Harry was a little confused by that. “So... wait. Are you saying that it _wasn't_ just because I could protect the children if necessary, but that you _wanted_ me?”

“You don't seriously think that I could have done any of it if I didn't want you at least a little, do you?” Draco asked with a mildly offended tone.

“I figured that you gave yourself some of the lust potion too,” Harry stated with a shrug. “After all, I'd never even considered having sex with a man before, but I did it because of the potion.”

Draco leaned over until his face was maybe two inches from Harry's. “Was it really the potion and only the potion?”

“Back then, yeah,” Harry answered with a decisive nod. “Now however...”

A slow smile spread across Draco's mouth. “Does that mean you'd be willing to try it again?”

Harry shrugged indifferently. “I figure that I got into this situation without fully knowing what was going on, so I should at least try it once more to see if I'd still like it without a lust potion.”

“Hmm...” Draco hummed in thought. “Now I wish that I could _not_ be pregnant for one night so that I could take full advantage of your good mood. As it is, my large belly at the very least will make this rather awkward.”

“Who said anything about now?” Harry wondered with one brow raised in both curiosity and disbelief. He also flushed just a little because Draco was still so very close to him.

“Why not now?” Draco asked with a tone of clear challenge. Before Harry could respond, he closed the last two inches between them and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's lips.

Harry inhaled in surprise, but didn't feel repulsed or anything. In fact, it was pleasant enough that Harry opened his mouth and let Draco deepen the kiss. It rapidly became hot and heavy and still very much a surprise to Harry. Even when he'd been under the influence of the lust potion, they hadn't kissed. When he'd had time to think about it, he assumed that Draco either didn't like to kiss, or felt it a bit too intimate for a one off.

So why were they kissing now?

Pulling back, Harry gave Draco a deeply suspicious look.

“What?” Draco asked nervously.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry wondered.

“Because you said you would be willing to have sex with me again,” Draco reminded him.

“Yeah but... we didn't even kiss the first time,” Harry pointed out.

Draco shrugged as if he didn't care either way. “If you don't like it, we don't have to do it.”

“I didn't say that,” Harry rebutted. “I'm just confused.”

“About what?” Draco wondered.

“About your motives,” Harry replied honestly.

“My motives are simple,” Draco confessed, also being rather more honest than expected. “I just want a good shag.”

This was a motive that Harry could understand and agree with. “Alright then. So how do you want to do this?”

“I think it might be easiest if I pile up all my pillows for support and bend over them,” Draco explained.

Harry was a bit surprised. He'd assumed that Draco would want _him_ to do the bending over. Draco accurately interpreted the look on his face and decided to be honest once more.

“Listen, I like to top and bottom equally, however, there are few people I trust enough to bottom for, so I don't get to do it as often – especially not now that I'm pregnant. So, if you're willing...” he trailed off with a shrug.

Harry was stunned that Draco had just implied trust. Swallowing to wet his suddenly dry throat, he nodded. “Alright.”

Same as last time, Draco cast spells to strip them both naked and prepare himself quickly. Then he bent over a mound of pillows and watched Harry conjure some oil and rub it into his shaft. Harry huffed a tiny laugh.

“Well, it seems that this part of me is not confused at all about what's happening,” Harry stated with a wry smile.

“What's there to be confused about? It's just sex,” Draco stated with a tiny smirk that made it clear he thought that Harry was being ridiculous.

“What's there to be confused about?” Harry asked with a hint of incredulity. A mental list immediately scrolled through his mind. That it's a bloke. That it's someone he grew up hating. That it's someone who purposely got him pregnant without telling him. That it wasn't love on Harry's part – which if it was, that would at least explain why he was ignoring all the very compelling reasons to _not_ have sex with Draco. But he didn't say any of that. Instead, he simply pushed into Draco and moaned at how good it felt.

Draco shifted slightly to provide a better angle and let out a happy sigh. He hadn't had sex with anyone since he started to show since he didn't want anyone to think he was getting fat. So, of course, that was exactly when his libido went into overdrive and he'd wanted it the most.

Harry took the time to find the position and angle that consistently hit that spot that made Draco feel like he had mini explosions going off in his mind. He made the most embarrassing sounds, burying his face in a pillow in an attempt to muffle them. But he couldn't help it! It felt so good that he was nearly squealing from the pleasure.

Just when Draco was sure the end was near – noises from Harry indicating that he was close too – Harry stopped abruptly.

“Why do you trust _me_ with this?” Harry blurted out.

“Merlin's raunchy hole, Potter! Is _now_ really the time?!” Draco cried out in frustration.

“Yes,” Harry stated insistently.

“Oh for fuck's sake! Fine! It's because I'm certain you won't hurt the baby,” Draco informed him. _And_ he didn't think that Harry would dare think he was fat, considering that Harry was in the same situation, even if it was less obvious to onlookers.

“Oh... Makes sense,” Harry murmured before abruptly resuming his previous pounding.

Draco purred in contentment, loving how Harry practically made his toes curl with each powerful thrust. Thankfully, it didn't take too long to get back to that blissful feeling of impending climax. Then Harry stopped again.

“So, wait. Why–”

“Merlin's deformed left testicle, Potter! If you stop one more time, I'm going to hex boils onto your testicles!” Draco snarled angrily.

“Er... Right...” Harry muttered, feeling a bit silly for letting his insecurity ruin what was otherwise some fantastic shagging. He continued, but slowly this time. He wanted to focus completely on what he was doing and enjoy every moment.

To Draco's surprise, the slower pace actually felt better. Rather than feeling like there were a lot of tiny explosions, he felt like he was being overwhelmed by a lava flow. His whole body trembled uncontrollably and he alternated between whimpers and sighs.

Harry could feel Draco getting tighter around his shaft. It made him smile to know that he wasn't the only one feeling good at the moment. Trying not to shift position too much, Harry reached around and grasped Draco's long and thin shaft in his hand and gave it a few good strokes.

“Come for me, Draco,” Harry ordered in a soft and husky voice.

This was enough to set Draco off. He buried his face in one of the many pillows under him and let out a low cry that was nearly a squeal. He could feel the hot fluid hit the pillow, but more erotically, it also coated Harry's hand and provided a bit of lubrication that made everything feel that much better.

Harry groaned and pumped Draco full. Slumping heavily onto Draco's back, he panted as he rested for a few moments. Tiny movements made him realize that Draco was getting uncomfortable, so he rolled to the side, feeling powerfully drowsy.

Draco rolled onto Harry so that he was laying on his side pressed against Harry as much as possible; his head resting on Harry's shoulder. All the pillows that _were_ under him now supported his back, making him extremely comfortable. He was rather drowsy too and didn't mind in the slightest that they both fell asleep before finishing that conversation they were supposed to be having.

 

***

 

“Tell me again why I agreed to this?” Draco muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Harry was busy hugging Hermione and exchanging kisses on the cheek. Ron was glaring lightly at Draco, obviously not liking this situation any better than he did. But it was something they had all agreed to in an attempt to make Harry happy.

They all took their seats, Draco sitting between Harry and Hermione. This meant that he was directly across the spacious four person square table from Ron. Which was better than sitting next to him, but would be even better if the center piece was tall enough to block their view of one another.

A waitress came to take their order, explaining the specials, and ending with: “And since it's the day before Christmas, we have two special desserts to celebrate the occasion. First is a mint and cherry cheesecake that lights up with red and green sparks as you're eating it, and the other is a crème brûlée that magically remains on fire as you eat it, but don't worry, it won't hurt you.”

Harry smiled at her. “Those both sound delicious.”

He then ordered Steak Tartare on Sourdough Rye with an accompanying salad made with equal parts romaine lettuce and cauliflower with crumbled bacon and dressed in a mix of mayonnaise, vinegar, sugar, and grated parmesan cheese. There was also a bowl of the soup of the day – which was Bacon and Clam Chowder. To top it off, Harry ordered both desserts.

Then Harry added an appetizer of Crostini topped with Koi Soi, and an order of fried Calamari. As for drinks, he decided on a glass of water, three different juices, milk, and a cup of tea. Ron and Hermione both gave him strange side eye looks but didn't say anything.

Draco was torn between being appalled by how much Harry planned to eat, and wanting to order the same because it sounded so good. However, this was the finest restaurant on Diagon Alley. Literally anything in the world that Draco could want was on the menu – so Draco ordered his favorite Hibachi grilled seafood platter with a side of Sushi. And a delicate onion soup. With pickled ginger. Served with a glass of water and a pot of green tea.

Ron and Hermione both decided to be unadventurous and got a combination of steak and shrimp. Their appetizer was a fried “blooming” onion and a sumptuous white cheese dip served with Bruschetta. Since Hermione was also pregnant, they ordered one glass of wine to share, along with water and tea.

Conversation was stilted a bit as they waited for their appetizers to arrive. But then the waitress returned and everything smelled so good that they all moaned unconsciously. Which provoked a round of mildly embarrassed chuckling.

The moment the waitress set everything down and excused herself, Harry cast an array of detection spells on all their food. It was no real surprise to him that his Koi Soi Crostini and Calamari – along with all of his drinks – were poisoned. The fascinating thing was that it wasn't the same poison; each one was different and not all were intended to be lethal.

Thankfully, no one else had poisonous food, so Harry simply cast spells to render it all inert and harmless. Hermione shook her head as he was dealing with one of the ones that was actually lethal – in his tea.

“No, remember, you can't simply inactivate that one,” she reminded him. “It's lethal even in its inert form, so you actually have to siphon that one out. Here,” she said as she did it herself by casting a spell that targeted the poison molecules and lifted them out of the tea. Harry barely had time to mutter: “I know,” before the poison was safely in a glass vial Hermione pulled out of her purse.

“And... _why_ is there poison in your food?” Draco asked in alarm. He knew that Harry had claimed to be slipped poison regularly the first time they had gotten together when Draco had spiked his wine, but he hadn't actually believed it to be true.

“I think it's a combination of the fact that I am the Deputy Head Auror and the fact that I've put so many criminals in Azkaban,” Harry explained with a shrug. “I think there might even be a little bit of people trying to pull harmless pranks just to see how much _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ can survive.”

“None of that matters!” Draco exclaimed with a frown. “This restaurant is supposed to be the best. There should be security measures in place to prevent things like this from happening!”

Harry laughed a bit derisively. “Even if I bought all the ingredients myself in a muggle market, then brought them home and cooked them, I'd still have to check for poisons and potions because I find them in my home cooked food about once a month. Thus, I think that there are quite a few people who are both resourceful and determined. For example, I don't blame the waitress. It probably happened as she was gathering everything to put on the tray – the one moment her back was turned.”

Since she was coming closer to check on how their appetizers tasted, and whether or not they needed anything, Harry proved his point by casting a spell on her. She stood up straight as a board and frowned at him, offended by his breech of etiquette. However, since the spell didn't detect any harmful intent or traces of poison on her, he simply smiled at her and explained that he needed to be sure that she wasn't planning to harm him.

Considering that she well knew that he was Harry Potter, she decided to forgive him for his rude transgression. That would have been the end of the matter, except that Draco was still angry. He asked for the waitress to fetch her manager – better yet, the owner of the restaurant.

The owner arrived just after the soup and salad course. He watched Harry with a curious frown as Harry cast spells on his food. Everything came up as tainted with something. At this point, Draco glared at the owner and gestured to the food in front of Harry.

“Care to explain why the Savior of the Wizarding World – and he alone – has an abundance of poison in his food?” Draco snarled, then summoned the vial of lethal stuff that Hermione had siphoned out of Harry's tea. “If you can't explain it, I challenge you to drink this.”

The owner paled and his hands shook just slightly. “I... I'm very sorry, Mr. Potter. I can assure you that this was not intentional on my part or that of my staff. I will personally see to it that the rest of your food is served in dishes that can detect poison. I will also set up surveillance spells to catch who is doing this.”

“Thank you,” Harry stated, knowing that it wasn't any more likely to work than his own Auror trained methods. Not that the methods were useless, just that usually there were so many people doing it that capturing them all was next to impossible. The owner bowed deeply and left.

In an attempt to distract Draco from his obvious ire, Hermione started a debate on house elf rights. Surprisingly, this worked because Draco had a lot to say on the subject. He'd been raised with them and felt he had a better understanding of them than she did.

As for Hermione, she'd had a chance to talk with Dobby a lot before he died, and felt that she had a better grasp on elf abuse than Draco would admit to. She took a smug pride in pointing out that Dobby was abused by Lucius Malfoy. Draco scoffed and literally waved that tidbit away.

“Of course Dobby was punished a lot! He was a mischievous bugger,” Draco informed her, rolling his eyes. “He purposely pushed the boundaries to see what he could get away with. Most house elves are happy to serve exactly as ordered without needing to be punished.”

“Oh?” Hermione challenged with a steely glint in her eyes. “So you mean to tell me that your father doesn't punish any of your other house elves?”

Draco shook his head. “There's no need. Look, it's simple, a house elf is meant to serve. So, if my father asks for a cup of tea and is served a cup of tea in his preferred blend, he is gracious. If – as often happened with Dobby – my father asks for a cup of tea and receives a cup of tea spiked with Veritaserum, then of course my father would order him to punish himself! How do you think Dobby learned so many secrets he wasn't supposed to know?”

“Dobby did what?” Harry asked with an amused grin.

Draco huffed. “Dobby was _weird_ when it comes to house elves. They are not supposed to care about the things their masters do. For example, if you snuck into the Hogwarts kitchen at three in the morning, the elves wouldn't care that you were out of bed after curfew. They would simply stuff your hands and all your pockets full of food, serve you tea, biscuits, ice cream, and anything else that crossed your mind. Then they'd chat with you until you got tired enough to go back to bed. Not Dobby. He'd spy on conversations he wasn't supposed to, and then work to hinder his master's plans if he thought it necessary. As it turns out, that was good for _you_ but I think even you can agree that he was the only elf you've ever met that wanted to be free so that he could meddle as he liked.”

Harry stroked his chin as he thought about this. “You might have a point.”

“No he doesn't!” Hermione insisted, pushing firmly on the table with her pointer finger. “Let me put it this way. Let's say that you were hired by the ministry to file paperwork. And after a month on the job, you realized that they file it horribly – alphabetical by middle names or some such idiotic system. You think to yourself that it would be much better if it was filed by date and then alphabetical by last names, so you rearrange it, and the new system works beautifully. In a civilized society – such ingenuity would be rewarded. In a less civilized but still acceptable society, the ministry would get angry that you changed their system without permission and fire you for not doing the job you were assigned the way they specified. In our current society as it applies to house elves, you wouldn't be praised or fired for rearranging the filing system, you'd be ordered to bash yourself on the head, iron your hands, and possibly be starved. _That_ is why it does not matter if house elves are generally happy with their lot! Even when they serve their masters with pride, they can still be treated horribly!”

Draco rubbed his temples to ward off a headache. “Granger, they–”

He was cut off abruptly as Harry grabbed him and pulled him down under the table. Ron and Hermione squeezed themselves under the table a second later. There was a single moment of silence as Draco tried to figure out why they were all suddenly on the floor, and then a curse hit their table and made at least half the dishes explode.

“So,” Hermione murmured conversationally. “You think this one is another prankster, or is this one serious?” She and Harry took turns casting a variety of powerful wards around the table.

“My money's on a prankster,” Ron stated with a shrug. “Remember that one kid who thought it would be funny to turn Harry into a jellyfish for a day.”

“That wasn't a kid, that was a 17 year-old; technically an adult,” Hermione reminded him.

“Oh Hey, 'Mione,” Harry blurted out abruptly. “Did I mention that I dropped in on Kingsley yesterday and had a nice chat? You came up in conversation.”

“I did?” Hermione asked with a tone of intrigue. On the table, a water glass shattered and sprayed everywhere. “Lucky shot,” Hermione muttered since the wards made it impossible for the table or anything on or under it to be seen. “What did he say?”

“I think he wants to offer you a type of promotion,” Harry informed her.

“What does that have to do with the situation we're in?” Draco demanded in vexation.

“Huh?” Harry wondered, slightly puzzled for a moment. “Oh! Nothing. It just came to me.”

Draco growled in frustration. “And what do you plan to do about the person or persons currently attempting to hex us?”

“I figure that they'll give up and run off in another minute, so there's no need to do anything really. If they decide to get bolder and attempt to penetrate our wards, I'll simply Incarcerous them and then call in a team to deal with them so that I don't have to,” Harry explained.

Ron snorted in laughter. “Remember that time the little old witch sent a hex at us and you threw up a shield so that it bounced back at her?”

“And she turned into a giant rooster!” Harry finished with a laugh.

“And then her vibrant red and blue feathers all molted off to leave her as a 10 foot tall naked rooster that took St. Mungo's three days to fix!” Hermione added with a giggle.

“I still think she's the one that sent me a flock of Barred Rock hens,” Harry mused. “One of the best gifts I've ever gotten because those eggs are quite tasty.”

“That reminds me, I'm running low on eggs again,” Hermione murmured.

“Hello?!” Draco roared in disbelief. “Shouldn't we be focusing on the problem on hand?!”

“What problem?” Harry scoffed. “As I predicted, they ran off. Look, here comes the owner again to apologize profusely and let us know our entire meal will be on the house.”

“We get the best meals for free when we eat at Wizarding Restaurants,” Ron murmured with a satisfied grin.

Sure enough, the owner stopped outside their wards and wrung his hands fretfully. “Mr. Potter?”

Harry stood up and dispelled the wards. “Well, wasn't that exciting?”

“I have no idea how this happened!” The owner wailed. “After the poison incident earlier, I set up wards around the entire place to keep out anyone with harmful intent!”

“Oh, must have been a prankster then,” Hermione stated, and then cast spells to identify the curses that had hit the table. “Rictusempra and Tarantallegra, definitely a prankster.”

Harry laughed. “Even under a jinx, I'm terrible at dancing!”

“You should take lessons,” Hermione suggested with a smirk. “Now that you're invited to all the Ministry's formal occasions, you really should know enough to take Mrs. Shacklebolt for a spin.”

Draco held up his hands in a gesture asking them to stop speaking. “Why aren't any of you concerned that we were just attacked at dinner? It could have been serious!”

Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Mate, you're forgetting that we survived a year on the run from Voldemort and have been fending off attacks like this ever since. We're so used to it by now that I'd be shocked to get through a dinner out in public without it.”

“They're almost never harmful,” Harry added. “I probably should have warned you, but I wasn't thinking about it.” He shrugged as if the entire topic was unimportant.

“I... see...” Draco murmured because he couldn't think of anything better to say. Then he thought of something. With a venomous glare, he rounded on the owner. “ _Why_ wasn't Harry Potter seated in a private and fully warded room?”

“He didn't ask for one,” the owner replied with a shrug.

“They have those here?” Harry asked curiously.

“Of course!” Draco and the owner stated in unison. Draco added: “All the high class restaurants do.”

“I did not know that,” Harry replied with a mildly impressed nod and expression.

“That shouldn't matter,” Draco stated flatly. “You shouldn't have to ask. It should be considered common courtesy for you simply because you are apparently plagued with trouble wherever you go!”

“Of course! Allow me to show you,” the owner offered hastily, beckoning them to follow him. When they stood in front of a private area, he spoke again. “This is our best private dining room. It is warded so that absolutely no one except your assigned waitress or waiter – and myself – can enter the room while you are inside.”

“That could come in handy!” Harry stated with a grin.

Without further explanation, the owner settled them in the room and ordered the assigned waitress – the same one as before – to bring them all new food to replace the ruined stuff on the previous table. He also assured them that their meal would be on the house. After that, he left the room, but could be heard muttering on his way out about atrocious breeches in his security and hexing anyone responsible within an inch of their lives.

Once they were alone and sitting comfortably, Ron narrowed his eyes and peered at Draco intently. “Now that Harry knows that you purposely got both you and him pregnant without his permission, what are your intentions?”

Draco shrugged. “My intentions have not changed. I will fully support both children, and I'll leave the details up to Harry. Whether we do this together or separately is entirely up to him.”

“Which are you hoping for?” Hermione wondered curiously.

“Together,” Draco admitted softly, looking her in the eye so that he didn't have to look at Harry.

“There's something else I don't understand,” Harry informed him. “What if I had gotten pregnant but not you? You said that you only planned for one of us to get pregnant, and what if it had been me? What if I decided to keep the baby but never see you again? What then?”

“I would have been disappointed and upset but I would have understood,” Draco answered honestly. “Presuming that I lived long enough for him or her to grow up to adulthood, I could always meet with him or her on my own and explain that he or she is my Heir and I'd like an opportunity to explain what it means to be a Malfoy.”

“That's a bit cold,” Harry muttered, then he shook his head. “And what if I decide that we are better off doing this separately?”

Draco sighed lightly. “The same. I'll wait. The child inside me would probably inherit a larger portion of the Malfoy fortune though – rather than share it equally as I intend if we raise them together; or at least share custody and try to co-parent.”

“So you weren't just trying to trap Harry in your twisted net?” Ron asked. He'd honestly thought that Malfoy had tricked Harry into getting pregnant because he wanted to torment Harry like he used to.

Draco smirked a bit evilly. “Not as such, but I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't a lovely bonus.”

“Hmph!” Harry harrumphed.

They talked of other things as they finished their dinner. When they were ready to go, the situation between Harry and Draco – and Draco and Ron and Hermione – could almost be called friendly. So much so that Draco threatened to invite _his_ friends to the next dinner.

As they were leaving the restaurant, Harry abruptly grabbed Draco and pulled him so that Draco was behind Harry. Hermione cast a powerful wall shield in front of them, and Ron stood ready to disarm or hex the person who was attacking them. An exchange of glances between the Golden Trio stated that this was business as usual, and annoying business at that.

“How can you protect _him_? He's a _Death Eater_ and he _deserves to die!_ ” The woman shrieked in outrage. Her hand trembled as she prepared to cast another curse.

“Wait, you're after Draco?” Harry asked, momentarily confused because he was used to everyone fussing over, pranking, or fake attacking him.

“Of course I am! He was there the day my daughter was tortured! He doesn't deserve a child!” The woman wailed in anguish.

“Right,” Harry stated flatly. In approximately one second, he proved why he was the youngest Deputy Head Auror in decades. The middle aged witch was now disarmed and bound by an Incarcerous. A second after that, Harry cast a Patronus to request an on duty Auror to come take the witch off his hands.

The moment the Auror Disapparated with the witch, Harry sighed heavily. “I think it's time I started cracking down on all these pranks and fake attacks. After all, if I let people attack me with impunity, what's to stop them from attacking others – such as Draco?”

“It's probably a good idea to make an announcement in the Daily Prophet,” Hermione murmured in sympathy, one hand on his arm.

Harry groaned reluctantly. “Joy. My favorite.”

Draco snorted in amusement over the sarcasm dripping for Harry's voice. “You probably should have put a stop to them a long time ago.”

Harry shrugged. “They didn't bother me until now.”

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Ever the idiotic Gryffindor. Listen, I've had enough 'fun' for one day. I'll see you whenever you feel like visiting the Manor again.” Before anyone could respond – or attack him again – Draco Disapparated.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy black hair. “That actually scared me for a moment. What would have happened if she'd actually managed to hurt the baby?”

Ron pushed Harry towards an alley for a bit of privacy. “Mate, I think you need to spend some time wondering why the failed attempt to hurt Malfoy upsets you more than the fact that you _and your own unborn child_ were attacked a few times today.”

“Huh...” Harry huffed in thought. Ron had a valid point.

Hermione chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. “After you've thought about that, you should probably pay that visit to the Manor Malfoy mentioned. See you later!”

“Later!” Harry agreed with a tiny wave. After that, the three of them went their separate ways.

 

***

 

Draco was surprised to find himself sitting in front of his fireplace at an obscenely early hour on Christmas morning. Chatting with him via Floo was Aguilar; Head of the Department of Mysteries. Draco had rather assumed that the Boss Unspeakable would forget that he existed until the third of January, as informed of by the Minister's secretary.

That was strangely not the case.

“I had an aggravating chat with Minister Shacklebolt yesterday. It seems that the Minister has found out about our little arrangement and doesn't like it. Fortunately for me, he can't order me to fire you, so rest assured that I will not. That said, since it _has_ become big news that you are currently quite pregnant, I agreed to let you have a year of leave. I'm not a barbarian! If you had simply _told_ me that you were pregnant, I wouldn't have sent you on your last assignment.”

Draco shrugged. “It wasn't a big deal. I wouldn't have gone if I thought either of us was in danger. I'm more concerned about Harry Potter.”

This definitely confused Aguilar. “Why? Has our Savior started to harass you or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” Draco stated with a wave of his hand. “I had a rather disconcerting dinner with him yesterday. We were at the best restaurant on Diagon Alley, and he was blatantly attacked once, and _all_ of the food he was served prior to me making a fuss was laced with one poison or another. This is so common that he never eats or drinks anything without first checking it for poisons or potions. I'd like for the Department of Mysteries to look into it and if it turns out that a person or group of people are trying to assassinate him, I'd like the contract to take them out.”

“I see...” Aguilar mused softly, stroking his chin. “I'll see what we can find.”

“Thank you,” Draco murmured sincerely.

Aguilar frown in mild confusion. “I don't understand, why would you be concerned about Harry Potter?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It's not really all that hard to figure out. Even during the war, I helped him as much as I could, not that it was much. He testified at my trial for a reason. I also happen to owe him a life debt, so one could say that until I repay that debt, his life is one of my top priorities.”

Aguilar's frown deepened. “Hmm... I really hadn't thought any of that was true. I thought Potter was simply trying ask for leniency because you were the same age as him and went to the same school. I know you two weren't on the best of terms, and I thought he was so caught up in saving people that he would even try to save you.”

Draco gave him a tiny smile. “I'm sure that's part of why he did it, but that doesn't change the fact that he didn't lie about any of it. Everything he testified actually happened.”

“Why should I believe you now when I didn't believe him then?” Aguilar wondered, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Draco sighed, and then shrugged. “You have been working in the Department of Mysteries for far too long. You see lies and conspiracy where there are none. Perhaps you might recall that I was asked to confirm his depiction of events while under Veritaserum.”

Aguilar waved his hand dismissively. “I disregarded that at the time as a ploy by Shacklebolt to help Golden Boy out with anything he wanted.”

Draco snorted derisively. “Harry Potter doesn't ask for favors like that. If he did, he probably would have asked the Head Auror to help him put a stop to the many attempts on his life from so-called pranksters a long time ago.”

“You may have a point,” Aguilar admitted with a heavy sigh.

“Of course I do! Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to go back to bed and get a bit more sleep before my mother sends in a house elf to wake me for our traditional Christmas breakfast.” Without waiting for a reply, Draco got to his feet – struggling just a little bit since he had been sitting still for so long.

Aguilar nodded and pulled back before stopping and giving Draco a speculative frown. “May I ask who the other father of your child is?”

“Why do you want to know, and more importantly, why should I tell you?” Draco asked curiously and with a hint of suspicion.

“I'm just wondering because – based on this conversation – I highly suspect that Harry Potter is the other father. But I also have a hard time believing that he would agree to such a thing.”

Draco smirked. “Believe what you want. As it happens, Harry _is_ the other father – just as I am for the child you probably read about in the paper.”

“So that's true too...” Aguilar murmured, sounding lost in thought for a moment. He shook himself unexpectedly. “Happy Christmas, Malfoy.” Then he ended the Floo connection rather abruptly.

“You too,” Draco muttered in amusement. As stated, he went back to bed.

 

***

 

Since Harry had been given access to Draco's private Floo, he stepped through just as Draco was moaning from a massage. The sound was positively sinful and sent a thrill straight to Harry's groin. He cleared his throat uncomfortably to announce his presence.

“Harry, have a seat,” Draco invited with a blissful grin. The massage therapist had him in an excellent mood. Harry could have shown up in a blind rage ready to hex him, and he'd have probably chuckled and offered tea.

“Er... Are you sure? I could come back later?” Harry offered, pointing over his shoulder at the fireplace.

“I'm sure,” Draco confirmed. “She's nearly done anyway. Would you like her to massage you when she's done? It could be your present from me.”

“That sounds... heavenly actually,” Harry admitted.

Draco scoffed playfully. “Why Harry, I thought your pregnancy was coming along so easily that you didn't even notice it.”

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head with a tiny grin. “Yes but I still have minor aches and pains from life in general. And look.” Harry held up his thick knitted jumper. It was emerald green with a maroon H on the front. Underneath was a bump that looked about six months along. “I feel a bit like I was beaten up with the pregnancy stick and it arrived overnight. This bloated feeling is really unpleasant.”

“Bloated? That's it?” Draco was suddenly grumpy, but he was determined to _not_ let it get to him.

“Well, that and I think the baby has had hiccups for the last six hours,” Harry added with a shrug. “Because I can't think of anything else that would make him or her bang about in there so rhythmically.”

The therapist smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Potter, unborn babies often have hiccups. I'm told it feels weird and even a bit ticklish.”

“That about covers it,” Harry agreed with a nod.

She conjured a second table next to Draco. “Here, this table is specially designed for pregnant bellies. Why not strip off and get comfortable? I'll work on you when I'm finished with Mr. Malfoy.” She proceeded to give him as much privacy as she could by focusing completely on Draco.

However, Draco had no qualms about watching Harry as he undressed. It was a good thing that he was already moaning and groaning from the massage because the sound of longing and appreciation he made would have been downright embarrassing otherwise. Harry smirked at him anyway as if he knew exactly what Draco was thinking.

When Harry was naked and face down on the table, the therapist conjured a soft flannel sheet to cover him and keep him warm. It was even charmed to be cozy. Just that was enough to make Harry moan softly in appreciation.

“Merlin's flabby love handles! This is almost enough to put me back to sleep!” Harry cried out with a tone of near bliss.

Draco smirked. “Just wait until she gets her hands on you! You'll be thanking every God you've ever heard of that she's so sublimely skilled.”

“Aww,” she purred with a light and pretty blush. “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I really think you're going to have to come back here every other day at the very least until I have the baby,” Draco added.

“I can certainly do that,” she agreed with a grin.

“Isn't that a bit excessive and decadent?” Harry wondered, sounding half asleep.

“I disagree,” Draco argued with a haughty tone. “It should be considered a basic right of pregnancy. Ask her yourself, the benefits are so good for both parent and baby that it's almost cruel and inhumane to go without.”

“That part is true, in my opinion,” she stated with a grin at Harry. She then listed an astonishing amount of benefits – such as improved circulation and relaxation – that Harry agreed to show up as much as he could for future massages, heckling Draco in an attempt to guilt him into paying for it.

Draco chuckled and agreed without any complaints because he felt that it was all a part of him caring for and taking responsibility for his child.

When it was finally Harry's turn for the massage, he was surprised to find that he couldn't hold back all those moans and groans that made Draco sound like a sex God. He didn't dare look to see how Draco was reacting to his copious vocalization. If he had, he would have seen Draco's eyes dark with lust.

“So...” Harry began between moans. “I was thinking more about what you said...”

“Yeah?” Draco asked, wondering which of the many things he'd said Harry was referring to.

“Yeah, and I think I'd like to try... raising them together – I mean that we'd already sort of agreed to shared custody and I want to do that, but maybe with more sharing and, well, more doing stuff together. My boss told me I can have the first year off if I wanted, and since I have money, I think I'll take him up on that. I figure that'll give us time to figure out what we're doing as parents and... if we are able to get along or if we're better off doing this separately after all.”

“I think that's a good idea,” Draco murmured softly because he was getting what he wanted and he didn't want to risk pissing Harry off just now. If he did, Harry might change his mind. Draco was willing to bite his sarcastic tongue on occasion if it meant that Harry would try raising their kids together.

“I'm still mad at you though,” Harry added with a grunt as the massage therapist worked a muscle he hadn't even known was sore.

“Yes, I know, I did an incorrigible thing,” Draco stated, still not sorry in the slightest. “So, have you given any thought to what you want to name the baby? I suggest picking a constellation.”

“Like Sirius?” Harry asked curiously to see how Draco would react to the suggestion.

Draco sighed in capitulation. “Yes. He might have been persona non grata but he was still a member of the family. Sirius Malfoy has a certain ring to it.”

Harry actually turned his head to glare at Draco. “Malfoy? You think this child is going to carry _your_ name?”

Draco smirked, laughing silently. “No. Just thought I'd wind you up a bit.”

Harry rolled his eyes before returning his head to the hole in the table. “Actually, I'm probably going to go with James Potter if it's a boy and Lily Potter if it's a girl.”

Draco harrumphed. “I think we can all be grateful that I plan to choose a constellation since naming mine after either of my parents could be... confusing... for a child; considering all that has happened...”

“Yes,” Harry agreed in a mild tone that he hoped wouldn't upset Draco.

Draco decided that a change of subject was in order. “So... When you say that you want to try doing things together, do you mean in a relationship?”

Harry paused to think this over for a moment. “Well, not... _boyfriends_ but,” he shrugged. “I think if we can manage to be friends, that would be helpful.” Then he yawned because the massage was making him sleepy. “And co-parents. We should probably call each other that. However, it doesn't matter how we define ourselves, the papers are all going to insist that we've been secretly dating and are in love and probably even going to get married,” Harry warned with an amused snort.

Draco sighed a bit sadly. “No matter. I don't plan to leave the safety of the Manor unless I have to.”

“Or unless you're with me,” Harry stated in a tone that let Draco know he was serious and still rather upset about the attack the other day.

“Yes,” Draco agreed, surprised to find that he actually felt safe when Harry was around. Then he changed the subject again. “Any other plans today?”

“I plan to see how much of the leftovers Molly gave me I can eat while I'm bathing later,” Harry replied with a chuckle. Molly had made a feast as always, and there were enough leftovers that Harry's share would almost feed an entire family. “Then, if I get bored or can't sleep, I might invite Ron and Hermione over to go through my mail again. Since it was Christmas yesterday, I have enough mail to fill a spare bedroom – and that's _after_ I already separated out anything live and sent it to my refuge. Ron loves it because he gets all of the candy I don't want, but Honeydukes tends to send me a lovely care package every month, so I'm rather looking forward to opening that. I'm practically addicted to their dark chocolate and caramel with pecans and sea salt.”

The massage therapist moaned. “Oh, that sounds good.”

“It is,” Harry informed her with a grin – not that she could see it since he was face down. “If you've never had it, I highly recommend trying it. Tell them I said that and I bet they'll give you a free sample.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, and then moved until she could gently wave her right wrist under the table where he could see the bright circle around it. “I've taken an unbreakable vow to never reveal anything about my clients unless given permission to do so or unless the information is vital to save my client's life or not doing so would harm them. Thus, I truly am grateful that you've given me permission to let on that you recommended trying that chocolate. I might not have been able to mention the chocolate otherwise.”

Harry raised his head so that he could glare lightly at Draco again. “You made your massage therapist take an unbreakable vow?”

Draco shook his head with a look like he was thinking: _Why are you blaming me?_ “No, she took it long before we hired her on, and if you must know, that vow is a big part of the reason we hired her. The bigger part being that she is so incredibly talented.”

She blushed and flapped her hand at him. “Aww, that's so sweet of you to say!” Then she indicated to Harry that it was time for him to turn over.

When Harry was set, he turned his head to look at Draco. “Why? What are your plans for today?”

“Not so different from yours,” Draco stated with a shrug. “I planned to lounge in bed with a book and snack on strawberries... possibly in the form of a cheesecake.”

“That sounds good too...” Harry murmured.

“Chocolate and strawberries,” the massage therapist murmured with a smirk. “You've nearly got a picnic there.”

Harry twisted his lips side to side in thought. “She has a point. What do you say? Want to come to mine and eat chocolate and strawberries while helping me sort through my mail?”

“Er...” Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to give up a relaxing day in bed reading for helping with Harry's copious fanmail. Before he could make a decision, his fire flared and Pansy's face appeared.

“Draco darling,” she called out in a singsong voice. “Are you ever going to stop being a bitch and forgive me for whatever it was I did to upset you? I need a second opinion on what to wear for my date tonight.”

Draco sat up, his warm and cozy flannel blanket sliding down to pool around his hips. “Pansy, you darling cow, you borrowed my favorite shirt to wear to a club and then got so drunk you vomited on it. Why would I forgive you for that?”

“Salazar, Draco! It was ages ago! Two weeks at the very least. Let it go!” Pansy insisted. “And sweet Merlin, are you having a massage without me?”

Draco grinned with a hint of evil satisfaction. “Why yes, I did, and it was marvelous.”

“Tosser! Are you going to let me come through or not?” Pansy demanded.

“I'm not exactly alone over here,” Draco stated to explain why he hadn't invited her in. “I suppose I could pull on a robe and go to yours for five minutes.”

Pansy sighed as if extremely put upon. “This is going to take more than five minutes. I'm expected to make a good impression at a pureblood marriage meeting. Thus I can't wear practically _anything_ I own! And more importantly, whether the meeting goes well or not, I'm going to need you to comfort me later. I was thinking that you, Blaise, Theo, Greg, Daphne, and Millicent could come over tonight for poker.”

“A marriage meeting!” Draco exclaimed, sliding off the table and tossing the blanket away with one hand as he pulled on a plush blue bath robe with the other. “I thought your parents weren't going to make you go through with that.”

“They changed their mind!” Pansy nearly wailed. “I'm not quite 24 – for Merlin's sake! I'm still too young to get married! But the good news is that he's fabulously wealthy – from _old_ money. The bad news is that I'd have to move to St. Petersburg if I married him, but then I'd be living in something very close to a palace. It could be worth it.”

Draco turned to look at Harry. The way the tables were situated, Draco was very close to the fire and Harry was on the other side of the first table. Thus Pansy couldn't really see him, so she had assumed that Draco was referring to the therapist.

“This might take me a while, Harry. When you're done with your massage, you can feel free to stay and take a nap. If you want tea or anything to eat, just clap your hands and ask the house elf that pops in.”

Harry chuckled and waved at Draco as if dismissing him. “Go on. You two sound like me and Hermione, but with insults.”

“You consult Granger about fashion?” Draco asked in mild horror.

Harry laughed. “Er, sometimes. She's not so bad at it. Especially since I'm sent all the latest fashions and all she really has to do is tell me if my arse looks good in them.”

“Mmm,” Draco's eyes glazed over as he thought about having the privilege of looking at Harry's arse with the intention of judging sexiness.

“Whoa! Back the fuck up! You have Harry sodding Potter in your bedroom, getting a massage! When you didn't even invite me?!” Pansy roared in outrage.

Draco sighed in mild aggravation. “Right, seems like it's time to tell you...” He waved to Harry before stepping into the green fire.

Harry chuckled again and settled down to enjoy the rest of his massage. “Sounds like Draco is about to get an earful. I'm rather glad I wasn't invited.”

His massage therapist giggled softly. “I'm glad I wasn't invited either!”

When his massage was over and the therapist had left, Harry dug a book out of his cloak and set it on Draco's bed. It was a signed copy of a first edition written by a famous potion master that had been sent to Harry by the author. Apparently, Slughorn had implied at some point that Harry was interested in potions, and since Harry actually wasn't, he felt that Draco would appreciate the book more.

The signed inscription was simple: _Please enjoy_ ; followed by the author's signature. Harry followed suit and left a simple note saying only: _Merry Christmas, Draco_ ; followed by his signature. He hoped that Draco would like the book.

With a soft smile, Harry left for home.

 

***

 

By the beginning of February, it had become almost routine for Harry and Draco to have lunch with their friends once a week. Generally Fridays. Ron and Hermione had been surprisingly supportive of the fact that Harry was sort of half dating Draco.

Draco spent the entire time he was getting ready for lunch wondering what the difference between half dating and full dating was. They spent a lot of time together and had sex as often as was comfortable considering that they were both pregnant, but Harry refused to refer to them as anything other than co-parents. It was frustrating only because Draco didn't know whether to be faithful to Harry or keep an eye out for potential future partners. The only thing he _was_ sure of was that he didn't want anyone with romantic interest in him to see him naked at the moment, so real dating would have to wait until after he'd had the baby.

With a smile at his gorgeous reflection in the magic mirror that made his reflection wink at him, Draco left for the restaurant. It was the same one that Draco had first gone to dinner with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, although they'd not been attacked again. Draco assured them that it was because they knew about and used the private room now, but Harry tried to insist that it was because he'd made it known that he was going to start arresting and prosecuting those who had previously gotten away with such attacks.

As Draco stepped into the restaurant, he smiled at Pansy. Probably more surprising than him getting along with Ron and Hermione was the fact that his two best friends – Pansy and Blaise, who were married now, having eloped when Pansy decided that she just _couldn't_ let herself be forced into an arranged marriage – made an effort to get along with Harry. Well... maybe it wasn't such a surprise on Blaise's part since he was an incorrigible flirt who could probably get along with and have a romantic fling with Voldemort if he had to. And wasn't that a horrifying mental image? Draco shuddered lightly and shook it away.

Pansy kissed Draco's cheek – which he returned – as the Hostess prepared to seat them. Harry arrived just then with his friends, and they were all shown to the private dining room with excellent security. The waiter assigned to them was courteous and prompt and treated them all like normal high class patrons rather than 'The Savior' and a former Death Eater.

Draco was the last to order, and this time, he had a powerful craving for Mediterranean style fish and shrimp. Lots and lots of shrimp. When he was done ordering, he raised a brow at Harry.

“Have you become a werewolf without telling me? You seem to eat everything raw lately.”

Harry laughed and grinned. “Maybe I have! All I know is that Koi Soi, Sashimi, Crudos, and Bashimi taste so good and I can't seem to get enough of them. My newest obsession is Blood Sausages.”

“Maybe the baby is a vampire,” Blaise suggested with a teasing grin.

Harry rubbed his rounded stomach. Even though he was due in just one short month – 36 out of 40 weeks and thus nine months pregnant – he barely looked about seven months pregnant. This continually made Draco seethe with jealousy because _he_ looked like he was 21 months pregnant or possibly carrying a half dozen babies. Thankfully, he wasn't. Several Healers had made sure that he was carrying just the one, but that one _had_ to be the size of a baby elephant!

Chuckling, Harry smiled at Blaise. “Maybe... Perhaps I was bit by a vampire without knowing it and it affected the baby. Or maybe someone managed to slip me a potion intended to turn me but got the baby instead. Just imagine, little baby Potter; Vampire! That would be very confusing for the Papers, I imagine. I can just picture the headlines: The child of our Savior is a vampire, so we don't know whether to love it or hate it!”

Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand. “If that were the case, I am certain it would take me about five days and a well stocked potions lab to figure out a cure – or a way to manage the condition at the very least.”

“And we'd have an excellent excuse to renew our efforts to reform the magical creatures law,” Harry added with a smile.

“You could love a vampire?” Draco asked, not sure how he'd feel about such a child.

“Of course!” Harry stated with a look that stated that not only should it be obvious, but that Harry expected Draco to love it too.

“Er...” Draco was mildly embarrassed to realize that it was one of those rare times when he was speechless.

Ron snorted in amusement. “There's nothing to be worried about! Mum was pregnant six times and says she craved something different each time. It was raw meat with Charlie and he wasn't a vampire – just a wizard obsessed with dragons.”

Pansy deigned to give Ron a tiny smile. “My mother says that there's a saying – legend, myth, belief, what have you – in our family that the more a woman craves raw meat during pregnancy, the more powerful the child will be. So...” she trailed off with an elegant shrug, not bothering to elaborate that the chances of Harry Potter – most powerful wizard in an age and defeater of Voldemort – having a powerful baby were fairly high.

They were served their first course, which Harry promptly scanned for any unauthorized additives. He grinned when he only found two. “I must admit that the security on this room is worth the added price. Now, only the rare potion slips through.”

He inactivated the non-deadly prank sleeping potion from his tea, and then siphoned the extremely deadly poison out of Draco's tea. He shook his head with a wry smirk. “They must not have been sure which tea was actually intended for me.”

Draco watched the poison flow into the waiting vial with a glare. “It shouldn't be happening at all! This is the finest restaurant in the Wizarding World! The owner should have to hire an expert in detection magic to ensure that none of the food is spiked with _anything!_ ”

Harry shrugged. “I'm the only one who ever has food spiked, and I do my own detecting anyway, thus them hiring an expert would be a bit of a waste.”

The next course was free from any sort of additions, but the course after that was spiked with sleeping potions in all the drinks. Harry bit his lip in thought because this was unusual. He exchanged looks with Hermione, who was clearly as worried as he was.

The waiter lingered a bit longer than he had for any of the previous courses he'd served. Draco cast a puzzled glance at the waiter, and then downed a vial of potion labeled Headache Remedy. When the waiter noticed Harry detect and render inert the sleeping potions, he subtly opened the ward on the door to let in a group of others. There were a total of seven of them, and they all looked exactly the same as the waiter.

Harry was actually so focused on rechecking his food for anything he might have missed, that he didn't notice the group until it was too late. Two of them pointed their wands at Draco's head while two pointed their wands at Harry, and the rest of them each pointed a wand at Ron, Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy.

“We were going to do this the easy way, but you've made that impossible, so now we have to do this the hard way,” one of the identical men informed them. He was one of the two pointing his wand at Draco.

“Mate,” Ron stated mildly as if talking to any of his friends. “You're probably aware of this, but the three of us won a war against Voldemort. You are going to regret this if you don't leave now.”

“We will in a moment, after we've killed the Death Eater and his evil spawn.”

Harry sat up straighter and glared at the one that kept talking. “You do realize that that so-called evil spawn you plan to murder happens to be my child too.”

This took the group of attackers aback for a moment. They exchanged looks asking what they should do. Then the probable leader shook his head. “It doesn't matter. _He_ doesn't deserve to live, much less have children.”

Draco reached out and lightly put a hand on the leader's arm. The leader shook Draco's hand off and then glared at him. “Don't _touch_ me, filth!”

“Go away while I'm still being nice,” Draco commanded firmly but in a tone one might use to order tea.

The leader took a step back and visibly looked torn between obeying and finishing his mission. Draco used the distraction to put a hand on the arm of the other man pointing a wand at his head.

“Order all your men to leave us alone,” Draco insisted calmly, directing it toward the leader. Then he faced the other man. “And you can kindly back off.”

That man lowered his wand just a bit and looked conflicted. “I... I'm not supposed to...”

“But you don't really want to hurt me, so back off,” Draco ordered.

The man took a step back, then looked shocked to have done so. Meanwhile, the leader was now shaking, and his non wand hand had lifted to press into his head. He repeatedly shook his head as if unsuccessfully trying to clear his thoughts.

“Boss?” One of the other men asked in concern.

“ _Leave_ ,” Draco growled.

“We... We should leave...” the leader murmured hesitantly.

“But boss!” One of the two men flanking Harry protested. “Just AK him and get it over with!”

Harry had his wand out so quickly that no one saw him move in the slightest. “If you so much as try that, I'll see to it that you're all thrown in Azkaban and the one who actually performed the Unforgivable will be Kissed by Dementors!”

Draco looked up into the eyes of the leader, who took another step back. “He told me to leave... We should go.”

“Boss!”

“Yeah,” the other man who had been pointing a wand at Draco backed his boss up. “He told me to back off. He told us to leave.”

“So you're just going to do what he says?!” The man behind Pansy asked incredulously.

“We have to, don't you understand?”

Draco was still looking at the leader. “You didn't listen fast enough, so now I think you should attack your friends until they all back off.”

“Right,” the leader agreed, turning his wand on one of the men flanking Harry. “He told us to back off!”

“The Death Eater has Imperiused them somehow!”

Draco snorted derisively. “How? I haven't touched my wand!”

“How else do you explain it?!”

“They came to their senses and realized that murdering the child of Harry Potter would be a death sentence,” Draco stated with an uncaring shrug. He then turned to the second man who had been pointing a wand at him. “You're going to protect me.”

“Yes,” the man agreed. “You need to be protected. These men want to kill you.”

“How _are_ you doing that?” Blaise muttered as he leaned over the table toward Draco.

“I'm not doing anything,” Draco replied with a look of: _what do you mean_?

Meanwhile, Hermione took advantage of the distraction to grab her wand and cast a spell that pushed all of their attackers back several feet. Harry immediately followed up with a ward to keep them out. Hermione added a spell to make them invisible to their attackers. Harry then cast a spell to make the part of the room not inside their ward dark. They could hear the group scrambling about frantically and fighting each other.

Harry slowly and carefully got to his feet and closed his eyes while he cast a nonverbal Homenum Revelio. The spell let him see the attackers in the darkness as red or white human shaped lights – depending on how injured a person was, which none of these were yet. Within a matter of seconds, Harry had cast Incarcerous spells on all of them.

During all of this, Ron had cast a Patronus Charm and told it to tell the Auror in charge at the moment that Harry Potter requested a team to come in and arrest a group of Polyjuiced men who had threatened a life. Then he cast another Patronus Charm to alert the owner of the restaurant that a bunch of Aurors were about to Apparate in and demand to be brought to Harry. More importantly, that the Aurors were to be allowed into the room.

As Harry cast a spell to fling the men up against the wall, Hermione dissipated the darkness so that they could see if any of the men managed to break free of their bonds. Ron yawned – a hand covering his mouth – and then took another bite of his dinner. He grinned over at his wife.

“We didn't even have to get up this time. Remember that time when we had a picnic in a muggle park and a group of young wizards hit us with paint ball spells?”

Hermione giggled. “And I had a blotchy riot of colored hair for a week!”

“I still wonder how I ended up with a handprint on my arse,” Harry added with a half grin. “No one even came close enough to touch me.”

Before anyone could say anything to that, the room filled with Aurors. They promptly took custody of the incarcerated attackers while Harry talked to them. Since he was the Deputy Head – even though he was off duty – he was able to send them on their way with the promise that he would stop in and fill out the paperwork later that day.

As they were being dragged out, the leader regained himself. “What did you do to me, Death Eater scum?! This isn't over! I'll get you when you least expect it!”

The Auror in charge at the moment scoffed and cast a silencing spell on them. With a respectful nod, they left. Harry seemed to mentally sigh in relief the moment they were gone.

Then the owner came into the room to apologize profusely and assure them that he had found his waiter Stupified and under an Incarcerous in a storage room, and thus it wasn't the waiter who had betrayed them. He then fussed over them annoyingly and brought them a fabulous dessert that he specialized in making. He also attended to them himself for the rest of their meal.

When he was finally out of the room, Blaise turned to Draco. “No seriously, how did you do that?”

“Do what?” Draco asked with an expression of mild confusion.

“Order them about and make them obey you?” Blaise clarified with a slight frown of disbelief that Draco was pretending not to know what he was referring to.

“I didn't do anything,” Draco denied calmly. “If you don't believe me, I'll have Harry send you the official report that proves that none of them have so much as a hint of my magical signature on them – thus I did not cast the Imperius Curse on them or any such thing.

“Oh come on, darling!” Pansy blurted out. “It's obvious that you did something!”

Draco simply rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

I don't think that you cast the Imperius Curse,” Harry stated with a small frown of thought. “But if you had – in this circumstance – you wouldn't be charged with a crime. You were clearly defending yourself, and there are several witnesses to confirm that you only ordered them to go away at first, and when they didn't, you ordered them to defend you.”

“So even you don't believe me,” Draco murmured in disappointment.

“As I said, I do believe that you didn't cast an Imperius,” Harry reiterated. “I'm immune to the curse and can sense when it's been cast. It wasn't.”

Draco finished his tea and set his cup down with an audible clank. “I'm not feeling very well, so I think I'll return to the Manor.”

“Draco...” Harry murmured in concern.

“I'll go with you,” Pansy offered, also in concern.

“No thank you,” Draco declined as he got to his feet. Rather than be reassured, Pansy looked more worried than ever. However, she let him leave without another word.

Then she turned to look at her new husband. Blaise was lightly biting his lip as he stared after Draco. “Something's wrong,” Blaise murmured softly.

“I agree,” Pansy stated quietly.

“Are you sure?” Ron asked, a little confused. “He seemed rather polite, for once.”

“Exactly,” Pansy declared.

Harry sighed heavily. “Well, if we're done eating, I should probably go write up that report.”

As Harry stood, Blaise held out a hand asking him to wait a moment. “Potter... I know you have so many reasons to still be angry with Draco, but even so, you tried to protect him. Thank you.”

Harry gave Blaise a genuine smile. “It's my job to protect innocents from crazy idiots.”

Blaise simply nodded.

 

***

 

The first thing Harry did when he left the restaurant was go home and lock himself in his training room. He was nearly shaking from fury. The thought that someone tried to kill his child was enough to make him want to murder them on the spot! Strangely, the thought that someone – actually a group of someones – wanted to kill Draco simply for having a Dark Mark made Harry seethe.

Harry needed to conjure and then destroy an entire room full of pottery before he could calm down enough to think straight. This hadn't been a harmless prank, and it hadn't been directed at Harry. No matter how calm he currently was, he was still so very angry.

“No matter what it takes, these people will be sorry for what they've done!” Harry vowed in a cold and steely voice.

After that, he went in and filled out the report on the incident, attaching a copy of his memory in a vial to it. The moment he was finished, he tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace and went to Draco's. When he stepped out of the fireplace in Draco's bedroom, he looked around until he spotted Draco lying in bed.

“If I'd known that you'd visit unannounced, I'd have removed your permission from the wards,” Draco snarled lightly.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked with a worried frown.

“Fine!” Draco snapped, clearly not fine.

Harry sighed heavily and sat on the edge of the bed. “I can't stop feeling pissed off about what happened. I destroyed an entire room of pottery and the entire time, I kept wishing that it was those men I was hexing. I couldn't even go visit them in their cells because I didn't trust myself not to transfigure them into slugs and then stomp on them!”

Draco shifted until he was looking Harry in the eyes. “You're _that_ upset?” Then his expression changed from tentatively hopeful to closed and he turned away. “Of course you are. Hurting me would have hurt your child inside me.”

“Well yes, but to be honest, I'm confused,” Harry admitted softly. “I tried picturing what I would have done if the attack had happened when you weren't pregnant, and I felt just as angry. I don't think that the potential harm to my child is the only thing upsetting me... I _hate_ the thought of someone wanting to hurt you!”

Draco snorted. “Someone or other has wanted to hurt me for over half my life, and for a long time, that someone was you.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Harry informed him sincerely. “I thought you were up to no good and I wanted to stop you, but that's not the same thing.”

“Really?” Draco asked with interest. Then he gasped and curled into himself.

“Baby kick?” Harry wondered since he had been surprised by how hard the baby inside him could kick when in the mood.

“Yeah,” Draco whispered breathlessly. “I think he or she could feel what I felt earlier because there's quite a lot of hard kicking going on.”

Harry studied Draco with the trained eyes of an Auror and couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong. “Were you that worried then? Because you seemed pretty calm and in control to me.”

“I was calm...” Draco exhaled in a way that sounded like he wasn't breathing normally. “But I was still worried. There were too many to fight off myself and I wasn't sure how helpful the rest of you would be.”

“You didn't think I'd protect you?” Harry asked, feeling strangely hurt.

“Oh no, I knew you'd do that. I just wasn't sure that you'd be _able_ to with so many attackers in the room with as many hostages as there were,” Draco elaborated, and then held his breath to prevent a groan of pain from escaping him.

“Right, that's it!” Harry exclaimed. “Something's definitely wrong. I'm calling for my healer.”

“Pansy...” Draco insisted faintly. “She's my...” A small gasp of pain. “Healer.”

“Okay,” Harry acquiesced. But since he didn't know Pansy's Floo address, he had to cast a Patronus charm. “Pansy, something's wrong. Draco's in pain and he says the baby keeps kicking really hard.”

It was almost a full minute after the glowing Stag disappeared until the floo lit up and Pansy's head looked around the room. When she spotted Harry sitting on the edge of the bed, she held out a hand in a gesture asking for him to wait a moment. “Blaise is summoning my Healer's bag. I'll come though as soon as he brings it here.”

Harry nodded, and then waited for what felt like an hour, even though it was only maybe another minute before Blaise handed the bag to Pansy and she came through the fire. She immediately pulled out her wand and cast diagnostic spells. Harry bit his lip in worry as he listened to her hum while she worked.

Then she sighed, sounding a bit relieved. “Well, it's nothing too serious.” She brushed a clump of sweaty hair out of Draco's face, caressing him lovingly as she did so. “You're in labor. The baby is healthy so delivering a month early will be fine.”

She glanced at Harry and noticed him watching them with clear concern in his eyes. She turned back to Draco with a faint smile. “Do you want him here for this or shall I kick his squeezably firm arse out?”

Draco was in the middle of a contraction, as evidenced by the fact that he closed his eyes and held his breath to keep from crying out like a weakling. When the contraction ended, he exhaled in relief and opened his eyes to look from Pansy to Harry and back. “He can stay if he wants.”

“Of course I want to stay!” Harry blurted out, leaning forward slightly from where he still sat on the edge of the bed to look Draco in the eye.

“O...kay...” Draco exhaled in agreement through another contraction.

“Good, I could use his help in a bit anyway,” Pansy stated, her tone all business.

Draco closed his eyes again and Harry shifted until he could hold Draco's hand as Pansy did what she had to do. Draco squeezed Harry's hand so hard that Harry paled from the realization that Draco was hiding so much pain. Draco was also shaking just slightly.

Pansy gave Draco a couple of different potions to dull the pain and numb his abdomen. His sigh of relief when the potions took effect was another big indicator of how much pain he had been in. Harry was mildly impressed since he was the only other person he knew of that had such a high tolerance for pain.

Pansy cast a bunch of disinfectant spells, and then a very precise cutting hex. Harry paled slightly at the sight of Draco being cut open and felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. Draco smirked a little at the queasy expression on Harry's face.

Harry's queasiness got worse when he watched Pansy pull the baby from Draco's stomach. She briefly inspected the baby for anything wrong, and then rubbed him for a moment as fluid leaked out of his mouth. When he suddenly cried out, she grinned and thrust the baby into Harry's arms.

“Here, hold him until I'm done,” Pansy commanded.

Harry felt a sensation akin to the weight of the world press on him for a moment when he took the baby. Therefore he was surprised that the baby weighed so little. He looked Draco in the eye.

“We have a son... We're fathers now...” Harry murmured, his head spinning just a little at the enormity of it.

Draco was feeling a little out of it because of the potions, but he watched Harry examine every bit of the baby and smiled faintly.

When Pansy was done removing the placenta from Draco, she helped Harry hold the baby in one hand and the placenta elevated in the other while she cast spells to heal Draco as good as new.

Draco felt dazed as he watched Harry hold their son. Even now, after months of being uncomfortably pregnant, he had a hard time believing that this was real. It really felt like he was dreaming – especially with the drugs making him a bit woozy.

Harry looked at Draco with a soft smile. “He's beautiful, Draco. Please try to understand that I'm still incredibly angry at you for doing this without asking me – or hell, _telling_ me – but...” Harry shrugged, his eyes drifting back to their son. “You gave me something I always wanted and was beginning to think I'd never have.”

“So...” Draco was struggling to comprehend what had been said. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the fog from it. “So you forgive me? For tricking you... For doing all of this without permission?”

“Well, I wouldn't quite go that far, but I think I'm closer to forgiveness than not,” Harry replied, and then frowned because that didn't quite make sense, even to him.

The moment Pansy finished healing Draco, she helped him sit up comfortably. Then she turned to see if the placenta had finished draining into the baby, and determining that it had, cast a spell to cut and cauterize the cord at the same time. After that, she cast a spell to instantly dry and powderize the placenta, which she Leviosa'd into jar.

Draco had sanitized and labeled the jar weeks ago and set it out so that it would be ready for this. He had a couple of potions he wanted to make that called for dried placenta as an ingredient. It wasn't exactly a rare ingredient, but the fact that the placenta was his would give him the opportunity to fine tune the potions for him or anyone carrying his blood. But mostly, he just wanted to create a potion to help him recover from his pregnancy as soon as possible.

Draco held out his hands for his son now that he felt a little bit clearer. Harry handed him over and watched Draco look the baby over with an interesting expression. There was clearly love, but it was like Draco was trying to hide that – as if it was a weakness he expected to be used against him. The expression melted Harry's heart just a little.

And then he started to freak out.

“What are we supposed to do now? How do we feed the baby? What if it starves?!”

Draco chuckled just a little. “There's nothing to worry about, Harry. I've already hired a wet nurse who will come in and feed the baby. She'll also live in the Manor and take care of the baby as needed.”

“You can do that?” Harry asked in astonishment.

“Of course!” Draco scoffed haughtily. Then he frowned. “Wait, what were you planning to do?”

Harry shrugged. “Luna has some milk she pumped and froze that she's going to give me, and she's still nursing her boys even though they're old enough to ween, so she's going to help out a little. The rest I figured I'd supplement with formula.”

Draco gave Harry a look that clearly asked: _if you were planning to use formula, then what were you freaking out about?_ But he didn't say anything.

Pansy gave Draco a kiss on the cheek. “Everything looks good, so I'm done here. Do you want me to stay and break the good news to your parents, or do you want me to go away so that you can rest?”

“I'd like to rest. I'll tell my parents later,” Draco promised.

“Alright love,” Pansy agreed with a smile. “I'll come back and check on you tomorrow. You just let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Draco stated even though he was fairly certain that his house elves could get him anything he needed.

Draco stared at the baby as if trying to memorize every detail. “It's surprising how much he looks like you.”

“I don't know about that,” Harry stated with a shrug. “He definitely has the pointy Malfoy chin.”

Since the baby was sleeping, Draco shifted until he was laying comfortably with the baby on his chest. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off just a little. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered so softly that Harry had a hard time hearing him.

“No problem,” Harry assured him with a small smile. “You can be there with me when the time comes, if you want.”

“I think I do,” Draco murmured sleepily.

“Any thoughts on a name?” Harry wondered.

Draco mumbled a reply, but he was clearly too out of it to be coherent. Harry smiled at him a bit fondly and kissed his temple. “Sleep. I'll be here.”

When the baby started fussing a couple of hours later – which woke Draco up – he noticed that Harry was sleeping next to him. Patting the baby's back, Draco smiled and whispered in his ear: “Your daddy looks almost adorable when he's asleep.”

It was a bit of a struggle to shift to a sitting position while holding a baby, but Draco managed it. Then he snapped his fingers and ordered the house elf that responded to bring him a bottle of the milk the wet nurse had started stockpiling. After a moment's thought, he added an order to request that his parents join him.

The house elf naturally returned with the bottle before his parents knocked on his door. Therefore, Lucius and Narcissa entered the room – once receiving permission – to see their son staring at his son as the baby tried to figure out how to suck the milk from the bottle. Narcissa covered her mouth with her hands to prevent an unladylike gasp as tears of pride watered her eyes while Lucius exhaled heavily, as if it had just hit him that he was now a grandfather.

Draco looked up at them for a moment, and then gestured to the chair off to the side of his bed. Lucius used his wand to levitate the chair closer to the bed, and then sat in it while Narcissa sat on the bed, knee to knee with her son. She held her arms out expectantly.

“Let me have a look.”

Draco handed the baby over with a smile. “It's a boy.”

“A son!” Lucius cried out softly in pride.

“A beautiful Malfoy to carry on the family,” Narcissa added, tears still threatening to spill from her eyes.

Harry sat up abruptly. “I didn't think I'd fall asleep!”

Draco chuckled. “We were sleeping too.”

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked Draco even as his eyes curiously watched Narcissa hold the baby.

“Better than I have in months,” Draco stated with a shrug. “But still tired.”

Harry grunted softly and put a hand to his belly. “I think this baby is excited to come out and meet his or her brother.”

“Do you think you are in labor?” Draco asked in concern.

“Nah, there's no pain, just... it feels like the baby is punching and kicking as if fighting its way out,” Harry murmured.

“Perhaps some tea and biscuits will calm the baby down,” Narcissa suggested, snapping the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding her grandson. When the elf popped into the room, she ordered refreshments for them all.

The next hour or so passed surprisingly peacefully, considering that Harry was in a room with all three adult Malfoys. The tea and biscuits really did make him feel better, although the baby was as active as ever. At one point, Harry got up to go to the en suite bathroom. On his way back, he was muttering wryly.

“That bathroom is bigger than my entire house!” Which wasn't true, but he couldn't help but wonder why anyone needed a bathroom that big.

“Surely that's an exaggeration,” Draco stated with one brow quirked.

“Well, maybe, but –” Harry cut himself off abruptly, a funny look on his face; his eyes a bit crossed. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if trying to say something. Then he swayed for a moment before fainting – thankfully landing on his side and not his belly.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed frantically. He leapt up and ran to see what was wrong. The nightshirt he wore just barely preserved his modesty.

Lucius sighed as he realized that his son – no matter how loathe to admit it – had real feelings for Harry. Deep ones. Nothing else would have made Draco so upset and concerned at this moment.

Narcissa gracefully slid off the bed, and then gently handed the baby to her husband. “Hold him for a moment.”

“With pleasure,” Lucius murmured, smiling down at his grandson.

Narcissa went to the fireplace and threw in a pinch of Floo powder. Then she called out directions to the right ward of St. Mungo's. A moment later, she had her head in the fire.

“Can I help you?” A Mediwitch asked with a faint smile.

“Yes, Harry Potter needs his Healer as soon as possible,” Narcissa informed the Mediwitch.

The Healer in question just so happened to be walking down the hall on her way to the breakroom, and heard the statement. “I'm his Healer. Is Harry in labor?”

“He said he didn't think he was, but he just passed out. I think it would be prudent to examine him,” Narcissa replied calmly.

“Right!” The Healer agreed. She summoned her bag and made sure that the Mediwitch would call the on-call Healer if anything came up. Then she stepped through the Floo, Narcissa hastily adjusting the wards to let her through.

She promptly rushed to Harry's side and cast diagnostic spells on him. “Oh... well, according to my readings, he's been in labor long enough that his body has given up trying. I'll need to get the baby out right now, and then I might have to bring Harry back to St. Mungo's.

She stopped and looked around for a moment. “My name is Healer Rowe, and while I understand that you are the other father, my patient has listed someone else as his next of kin and I need her here to make decisions if needed.”

“Hermione?” Draco asked although he was pretty sure that he was right.

“Yes,” Healer Rowe confirmed with a nod. Then she turned her attention back to Harry, casting spells to numb and disinfect the area.

Draco rushed to the fireplace to Floo Hermione, who literally dropped everything, kissed Ron on the cheek, and came through. Hermione rushed to Harry's side and seized his hand. She studied the situation carefully before saying a word.

“What happened?”

Healer Rowe only glanced up briefly before answering. “He was in labor long enough that his body gave up. Apparently he fainted, and now his life force is unsteady. I'm about to deliver the baby, and then unless he recovers rather miraculously, I'm going to have to bring him in and place him under stasis spells.”

“I see,” Hermione murmured, brushing hair out of Harry's face with the hand not holding his. “Come on Harry, you can do this.”

“I don't understand,” Draco stated, his voice slightly thicker than normal, but steady. “He was fine. He said he wasn't in any pain. He was even walking around!”

Rowe had just finished cutting into Harry, and Draco could now understand why Harry had looked so queasy when he watched it happen to Draco. She paused for just a moment to look Draco in the eyes. “He was one of the rare people who took to pregnancy like he was born for it. He had few symptoms and nothing to complain about. It doesn't surprise me at all that his labor barely caused him discomfort. I've had women come in for check ups who were in active labor with the baby crowning and they'd no idea. I would have called him lucky if _this_ hadn't happened.”

With that, she turned back to the task at hand and focused completely on delivering the baby. Draco shifted until he was out of the Healer's way but able to hold Harry's hand. Hermione was still holding his other and she looked up at Draco.

“Please don't worry,” Hermione murmured softly. “He's a survivor; he'll get through this.” Then she kissed Harry's hand. “Won't you Harry?”

Healer Rowe smiled as she handed the baby to Draco. “Hold your daughter for me a few minutes while I finish up.”

Draco inhaled in awe. “A daughter...” The baby squirmed but wasn't crying. Draco stared at her as if she was the greatest treasure on the planet.

Hermione continued to hold Harry's hand with one of hers while she ran her other through his hair. All the while, she watched Draco hold the baby with a tiny smile. From a few feet away, Narcissa was also watching, her hands once more covering her mouth as her eyes watered.

Meanwhile, Lucius was capably feeding, burping, and changing his grandson. It wasn't something he planned to do often, but in a way, the honor of changing the first diaper was something he planned to cherish. He glanced at his son from time to time, feeling strangely wistful at the expression of unexpected love on Draco's face.

When Healer Rowe was done removing the placenta (which Draco spelled dry and powdered) and healing Harry, she tried to Rennervate him. It didn't work. With a sigh, Rowe shook her head and looked up at Hermione.

“He's not responding. I need to bring him in. As his next of kin, you need to come with him, but I'll leave it to you to decide if you want to keep the baby with you, or let her stay here with her other father.”

Hermione looked at Draco for a long moment as she weighed the decision. Then she nodded. “I'll leave the baby here with you.”

“Thank you,” Draco stated simply but with a surprising depth of emotion. “As much as I want to be by his side too, I think it would be for the best if I cared for our babies. I'll come visit when I can.”

“And I'll send word as soon as I know anything,” Hermione promised.

“Please be okay,” Draco whispered in Harry's ear before standing up and moving out of the way.

It took only a few seconds for Hermione and Healer Rowe to agree that the Healer would Apparate directly to the hospital and begin readying them for Harry while Hermione carefully floated him through the Floo. As Hermione did her job, Narcissa put her arms around Draco to comfort him as he watched Harry be taken away. Just as Harry disappeared through the Floo, a sense of horror filled Draco.

 _If Harry dies,_ I'll _be what killed him!_

 

***

 

“Here,” Draco said as he handed a box of small vials to Healer Rowe. “I've made a potion using Harry's placenta that should help restore his magic and vitality.”

Healer Rowe scanned the potion to verify that it was exactly as Draco said, and then looked to Hermione to make the decision. “This potion can't hurt him, and although there aren't any studies to be certain about the use of this potion in this situation, I believe that Mr. Malfoy is probably right.”

“Well, if it can't hurt him, then it's worth a try,” Hermione agreed.

With a nod, Rowe administered the first dose. Draco watched her, subconsciously rubbing his daughter's velvety soft head. She was in a carrier strapped to his chest while his son was in a carrier strapped to his back. Both were half awake; they had just been fed and changed and were drowsy with contentment.

When Rowe turned her attention back to Draco, she gave him a small smile. “Harry is stable and we have no reason to believe that his life is in danger. That said, he's not waking up either. This is most likely a healing coma his body enacted while under the extreme duress of an unproductive labor. I have every reason to believe that he will wake up when his body feels sufficiently recovered.”

Rowe cast a diagnostic spell on Harry. “As you can see, his magical core is dangerously low. I have no idea how long it will take him to recover. I was able to cast one spell that tracked his labor and his magical core. It seems that Harry was down to about half his magic when his labor began – however, since Harry's core is so very powerful to begin with, he probably wouldn't have notice any ill effects from being at half strength.

“That said, Harry experienced a surge of emotions earlier the day he delivered that sent his magic pumping into the baby in an effort to deliver her safely, but since he's a wizard and not naturally capable of having a baby, well... he ended up like this,” Rowe ended with a tired sigh.

Draco frowned for a moment. “So... wait. You're saying that Harry would have been fine had the attack not triggered his labor?”

Rowe nodded and left the room. Hermione placed a hand on Draco's arm. “We talked it over, and we're pretty sure that the attack was what sent you into labor too. The only difference is that Harry was able to determine that something was wrong with you and call for help in time to prevent you from expending your entire magical core.”

Draco sighed morosely. “I wasn't thinking clearly, obviously, or I would have had Pansy scan Harry before she left.”

Hermione shrugged. “You had no reason to suspect that anything was wrong with Harry. I've seen him endure unbelievably painful things with barely a flinch.”

Draco bit his lip in thought for a moment. “Such as that time in second year when he broke his arm, caught the snitch anyway, and then crashed without so much as a whimper.”

“Exactly,” Hermione stated, but the look in her eye suggested that she was thinking of far worse things. “Which is also the reason that I know he will get through this.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “I should bring them home.”

Hermione gave him a careful smile. “Actually, I was wondering... Would it be alright if I brought them home with me tonight? I do technically have the legal authority to take Harry's little girl, but I don't want to fight. I just want to introduce them to the Weasleys, and then I figure that I can watch them while you get some rest.”

Draco took a very deep breath while he thought this over. More than half of him was screaming in protest of letting the Weasleys near his children, despite knowing that they would cherish the babies as Harry's. When he was able to control his natural tendency toward over-protectiveness, he nodded.

“Thank you,” Hermione said sincerely. Then he helped her strap the babies in their carriers to her body.

“How do you plan to feed them?” Draco asked in concern since he hadn't brought anything with him and the wet nurse he had hired was at the Manor.

“Harry has a small stockpile of breastmilk from Luna, far more than these two could drink in just one day,” Hermione assured him.

“Alright,” Draco conceded with a nod. Then he glared at Hermione. “If you _dare_ tell anyone you witnessed me do anything so weak, I'll hex you permanently silent!”

Hermione raised a brow in amusement. “Weak as what?”

Draco responded by kissing each of his babies on the head.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “I promise I'll never tell anyone other than Harry.”

“Good,” Draco stated, and then watched Hermione leave with his babies. The moment he stopped feeling a bit panicked by the fact that he had just let a one time enemy walk away with his children, Draco turned back to Harry. “Please wake up soon.”

When Harry didn't respond in the slightest, Draco sighed in disappointment. Then he ran his fingers through Harry's messy hair. Feeling strangely upset and bereft, Draco decided he couldn't stay any longer. So he kissed Harry before leaving.

 

***

 

Draco yawned, feeling utterly exhausted. He grumbled about the lingering effects of pregnancy as he tossed Harry's invisibility cloak in a trunk, locked it so that no one could open it without a drop of his blood, and then flopped into his bed. The day had felt like it had lasted for at least three years, and so Draco was already mostly asleep by the time his head hit the pillow. With any luck, he'd feel rested by the time Hermione returned with his babies.

 

***

 

Harry slowly regained consciousness. As he did so, he heard one of the younger Aurors talking with Ron.

“Yeah, it was... like nothing I've ever seen before!”

“How so?” Ron asked curiously.

“Well, first off, the prisoners had been searched thoroughly by two different Aurors to make sure that none of them had any wands or potions or anything on them. When they went into the cell, they were clean. Not to mention, the cell is supposed to keep them slightly confused. Unable to concentrate just enough that if they _did_ have a wand, it would be very hard to use it.”

“Wait,” Ron bade in concern. “So what you're saying is that one of them managed to hide _and use_ a wand in a cell designed to make that difficult to do?”

“Exactly!” The Auror exclaimed, obviously happy to be understood. “Anyway, the man that we figure was in charge of those that attacked you all... Well, he somehow got a hold of his wand. Then he cast the Killing Curse on all of his buddies before AKing himself.”

“So they're all dead?” Ron asked with a frown.

“Yep,” the Auror confirmed.

“Draco's safe?” Harry asked, his voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

“Harry!” Ron cried out happily. He leapt to his feet, rushed to his best friend's side, and patted Harry's arm. “You're awake! Healer Rowe didn't think you'd wake up for a few more days.”

“Not important.” Harry paused to clear his throat a couple of times. Ron gave him some water to drink. “Is Draco safe?”

“Yes,” Ron answered, rolling his eyes at how insistent Harry was. “ _More_ importantly, both babies are safe too. 'Mione has them – well actually, she was bringing them back to Ferret Face, so he has them now, but she must still be with them because she was going to come right here after dropping them off.”

Harry's face drained of what little color it had as he rubbed his stomach. “I... had the baby...?”

“Yes,” Ron confirmed with a happy grin. “And she's adorable too!” He promptly cast a Patronus Charm and told Hermione that Harry was awake.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir,” the Auror murmured respectfully. “But I need you to sign a consent form so that the Healers can discuss certain aspects of your case – specifically, we need to be sure that you were still out of it and abed all last night. There's no evidence to suggest foul play, but if there were, you are one of very few wizards who could have pulled it off... And you also had a bit of a motive. We just want to clear you of all suspicion no matter what happened.”

Harry nodded. “I understand.” He held out a hand and waited for the Auror to give him a quill and hold out the parchment before signing as asked.

The moment the Auror nodded respectfully and stepped back to leave the room, Hermione came flying into the room so that she could throw herself into Harry's arms – half smothering him in the process. Harry hugged her tight as she pressed a dozen kisses to his cheek.

“Oh Harry!” She nearly sobbed. “I was so worried about you!”

“We all were,” Ron assured him with a grin, and then frowned. “Even him.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Draco – who was lingering uncertainly in the doorway.

Harry looked Draco over carefully, noting the carriers on his front and back. “Hey... can you all leave us alone for a few minutes?”

Hermione took a deep breath to prevent a protest from escaping, and then nodded. “Sure thing Harry,” she murmured as she gave him one last kiss on the cheek. Then she slipped her hand in Ron's and walked out of the room with him – the Auror going before them.

Once alone in the room, Draco gave Harry a tentative smile.

Harry tilted his head curiously. “How did you do it? Manage to get into the cell and have the leader kill everyone – including himself – without anyone knowing you were there.”

“Er...” Draco considered lying, but then thought better of it and looked away. “Best not to ask me such questions.

Harry sighed in disappointment, but then nodded in agreement. If he was honest with himself, he didn't really want to know. Instead, he would much rather kiss Draco, but he had more important things to do first.

“Can... Can I see her?” Harry asked, feeling strangely shy.

Draco nodded, pulling the baby from the carrier on his chest. “She's been really quiet ever since she was born, only fussing here and there when she's hungry.”

Harry took his daughter from her other father and looked her over with a huge grin. “She's so beautiful!”

Draco nodded in agreement as he shifted his son around to his front. “On the other hand, this little man has a habit of screeching like a banshee whenever he's hungry or uncomfortable or bored – as far as I can tell.”

Harry snorted in amusement. “I wonder which of us he gets _that_ from...”

Draco shrugged. “I was usually a quiet child.”

“I don't really know what I was like as a baby, but I know that I'm more likely to suffer in silence than you are, so...” Harry shrugged as if implying that Draco was undoubtedly the drama queen that their son took after.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Say what you like, but I'm telling you that this baby takes after you.”

Harry held up his daughter so that she was close to her brother. “Hmm... I know they both have the same blue eyes and peach fuzz that all babies have, but she looks paler in both aspects than he does.”

Draco merely shrugged. “I know that they technically aren't, but since they were both born on the same day and have the same parents, I think we should consider them twins – _fraternal_ twins, obviously.”

“That's a good idea,” Harry murmured in agreement. He then gestured that he wanted to switch babies. “Any idea what we should call them?”

“I thought you had your heart set on Lily if you had a girl,” Draco pointed out.

“I did, but that was before I realized that they were... twins...” Harry stated with a shrug, not knowing how to explain it any better than that. “They should have twin names.”

“If you want to name them Fred and Georgina, I'm afraid that I'll have to hex you into next week!” Draco sneered with a glare.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “No! I was thinking more along the lines of...”

“What?” Draco asked, tilting his head curiously.

“It sounds stupid now that I think about it,” Harry evaded, actually looking away.

“What?” Draco asked again.

Harry studied Draco silently for a moment, and then shrugged. “Gryffin and Phoenix.”

Draco thought this over, murmuring to himself. “Not constellations... not flowers... still magical...” He straightened up and gave Harry a tiny smile. “I like it. I take it Gryffin is for our son and Phoenix our daughter?”

Harry nodded in agreement. He then shifted in the bed so that there was just barely enough room for Draco to squeeze in next to him. Draco complied reluctantly, careful not to jostle Harry or the babies. Harry rewarded him with a kiss.

“We have a son _and_ a daughter,” Harry stated happily.

Draco smirked, tempted to roll his eyes. “I know.”

“We're a family...” Harry added in a near whisper.

“We... _can_ be,” Draco admitted, trying hard not to let his hope show.

Harry kissed him once more. A soft and tender kiss that Draco returned for a moment before looking away to hide a blush. Harry grinned and rested his head on Draco's shoulder.

“I'll make you a deal,” Harry proposed, looking down as if trying to hide just how very serious he was. “I'll carry the next one if you promise to _never_ get me pregnant without my permission again.”

Draco positively lit up upon hearing that. He bit his lip in an attempt to tone down a brilliant grin. “Deal!”

“So...” Harry began hesitantly. “Do you want to move in with me, or should I move in with you?”

“I think we should talk about that a lot more before we make a decision,” Draco replied, realizing that the decision shouldn't be made impulsively.

“Alright,” Harry agreed, giving Draco another kiss. Phoenix was asleep in Draco's lap but Gryffin was watching them in fascination from Harry's arms. “As long as you promise to do everything in your power to make sure that these two grow up with the loving family I didn't have.”

Draco gave him a tiny but sincere smile. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first pregnancy really was a surprise. I like to jokingly claim that it was because I was in massage school at the time, and therefore massage is so good for a person that they won't even know they're pregnant, lol! When I found out the news and went to school to tell them I'd need to take a break until after the baby was born (luckily, this happened before the semester started), my teachers were amazed that they hadn't figured it out during a massage, but it was because I never let anyone work on my stomach even before I'd gotten pregnant, lol!
> 
> My second pregnancy was a bit more like Draco's in this. I still didn't have much for symptoms or discomfort, but I at least knew about it and got to enjoy it :-)
> 
> Last note, I have never used my kids names in a story before because I have a mental aversion to doing so. However, because I finished up writing this during the week between mine and my older son's birthday, I decided to use their names, but only because doing so worked rather well for this story :-)
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed it. Let me know if you figured out how Draco did any of it. I left clues, lol :-D


End file.
